


Íþróttssons Against the World

by marshmellow_sirel



Series: Consquences of our Actions [2]
Category: LazyTown, The Spy Next Door (2010)
Genre: Blood, Death, F/M, Fae Glanni Glæpur, Fae Robbie Rotten, I'm bitterly finishing this fic, M/M, Minor Violence, Sibling AU, Trans Glanni Glæpur, Trans Robbie Rotten, Vomit, family conflicts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-10-14 08:04:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10532316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marshmellow_sirel/pseuds/marshmellow_sirel
Summary: Anton ran away from everything he ever knew to live among humans but now he must face justice. Sportacus says he's nothing like his brother but what will he say when everything is taken from him, too?





	1. Loss

**Author's Note:**

> I bet no one wanted a sequel, well too bad. It exists now.
> 
> Edit: 'Sup. I tweaked these first two chapters to fix a couple of problems. Thanks for your patience.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anton fucks up and gets captured.

Rain dribbled on the glass of the restaurant windows in downtown Moscow. A female busser, her hair tied in a loose braid over her shoulder, cleaned tables at a record pace. Tatiana watched her work, her eye on the woman’s necklace. Elegant intricate locket with what looked like a gemstone inside. “Why,” Tatiana spoke to Anton beside her, “Did he want to meet here, of all places?”

“I don’t know,” said Anton. Gloves cast aside he ran a finger around the rim of the water glass which produced a haunting sound. The watch on his wrist glinted in the light as his hand moved around the glass. “I’ve only met him in strip clubs while he held a girl of a questionable age on his lap. A restaurant before noon is new for him.”

From their vantage point from the corner table Tatiana looked around the restaurant and watched the blonde hostess lead a group of businessmen to a table in the center of the floor. She placed a hand on Anton’s knee and leaned close, “Something doesn’t feel right,” she whispered into his ear. “You feel it, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he sneered. “I don’t like it.” The haunting tune died off as a pair of men approached the table.

“Anton,” said one of the men, taller and thinner than Anton, in a pressed suit. “A pleasure as always,” he laughed.

Anton raised an eyebrow, “Vlad,” he said flatly. He held out his hand to shake, which Vlad did, “I didn’t expect you to bring company.”

Chairs screeched against the floor, “My lover,” Vlad gestured to the other man, “Ivan.”A stout man with bright blue eyes and a thick mustache, dressed in a casual style compared to Vlad. “I only did it as I knew you would bring yours. I thought it was only fair.”

Tatiana scoffed, “Fairness, please, we’re only equal in death.”

“Yes,” said Vlad. He placed his elbows on the table, interlaced his fingers, and placed his chin on his fingers, “Yes, I believe so.”

Anton looked over the men, he worked with Vlad before but now it seemed different. Sweat prickled his temples and stuck his hair to his forehead, unusual for a man who supposedly held all the cards in this game. Anton cast his gaze on Ivan, a strong man, who avoided Anton’s gaze. He ran his finger around the water glass and Ivan followed the movement of Anton’s watch. “He doesn’t look much use to you, Vlad, if you brought him as a bodyguard.” Something about Ivan seemed familiar but Anton couldn’t place what, exactly.

“Is that why Tatiana follows you everywhere?”

“I’m just here to have a good time,” said Tatiana as she leaned back in her chair and rested her arm on the back of Anton’s chair. “Let’s get to the point, shall we gentlemen?”

Vlad mirrored her posture, “Gladly. Anton?”

Quietly, mostly to himself, Ivan said, “It’s fake.” However, both Anton and Vlad heard the comment. Vlad’s gaze flickered to his partner before returning to Anton. The haunting tune Anton played on the water glass died off. The four of them were still.

A distinct smell wafted off Vlad, different that his usual odor of cheap cologne mixed with Borsht. Anton shook his head; there were too many inexplicable red flags that he couldn’t ignore, “No,” said Anton. What Ivan said sealed it. They needed to get out. “Our business is done here,” he stood, gloves in hand. “Come, Tatiana.”

 “Why?” asked Vlad. “We’ve just begun.”

“Now we’re done,” said Anton and held Tatiana’s hand to pull her faster to the door. Neither noticed the female busser follow behind.

Vlad watched them go, “Oh, shame that,” said Vlad. “I hoped to play the game a little while longer.” He held Ivan’s cheek in the palm of his hand, “I would say you blew it for us but he knew something was wrong.” Ivan pushed away Vlad’s hand, “Aw, don’t be like that, darling, it’s almost over.” He smiled and snapped his fingers.

A sharp wind cut through the restaurant. Patrons, the blonde hostess leading a couple to a table, and waiters in collared shirts disintegrated like smoke. The façade around Vlad and Ivan blew away like dust on the wind and the busser’s basin crumpled in her hands to reveal a pair of handcuffs.

Pink mist swirled around Anton and Tatiana, their vision obscured Tatiana shouted and Anton attempted to pull her close but she was wrenched out of his grasp. “Tatiana?” He shouted arms grasping in the mist for her when a handcuff slammed onto his wrist. He screamed in pain, anger, and confusion as his arm was twisted behind his back. He tried to drop to his knee to throw his perpetrator off balance but his other arm was grabbed and held taunt outside the tornado of mist. Fingers grappled with his watch, he tried to pull away but the grasp on his wrist was stronger. The watch band clasp undone he balled his hand into a fist to keep the watch on his wrist. However, the perpetrator just broke the band and pulled his watch away.

A hand slammed on Anton’s neck which almost made him lose his balance. His other arm was twisted behind his back and shackled. The pink mist tornado slowed and disintegrated around Anton and revealed three things besides the empty restaurant: Vlad and Ivan were gone; Glanni Glæpur and his father stood before him; and Klara, the waitress spy from the night club six months ago, gripped the chain on the handcuffs behind his back. The pink mist settled but a single strand of mist, no bigger than a piece of yarn, clung to the edge of the ceiling.

Eyes focused his eyes on Íþróttaálfurinn in front of him, “Old man.”

“Antoninus, son,” said Íþróttaálfurinn. Bronze arms wrapped around Anton in an awkward, but tight, embrace and tears rolled down his cheeks. The edge of the broken watch pressed into Anton’s shoulder blade. Íþróttaálfurinn pulled back and pressed his forehead to Anton’s, “I’m sorry that’s it come to this.”

Anton scoffed, “Bullshit.” The smell of fish oil filled his nostrils, it lingered on Íþróttaálfurinn’s breath, and reminded Anton of years gone past.

“I don’t know where we went wrong,” Íþróttaálfurinn said, “I don’t know if I pushed you too hard, or if your mothers pulled you in a different direction. I don’t know. I—” a quiet sob cut him off “—I’m so sorry. I’m sorry it has to end like this.”

Anton felt a coldness settle in his stomach.

“I would apologize as well, Antosha,” said Glanni, his arms wrapped around Tatiana’s waist and his head resting on her shoulder. A drip of blood rolled down his lip from his nose. “But, let’s be honest, I’m not that sorry.” Tatiana stood placidly, her eyes colored pink, and her mouth slack.

Anton’s chest felt tight, his lungs were on fire, like he couldn’t breathe as he stared at Tatiana over Íþróttaálfurinn’s shoulder. No, not like this, he thought. Not like this. “Get off of me, you disgusting old man,” he shook free of his father’s grasp. Íþróttaálfurinn stepped back several steps and wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand. “What did you do to her?” Anton shouted at Glanni, “What did you do, you filthy pervert?”

Glanni rolled his eyes and sighed. “You said it was fake, Íþróttaálfurinn, what was it, exactly?”

“This is,” Íþróttaálfurinn held up the watch, “The crystal is fake.” More tears rolled down his cheeks as he tossed aside the watch and it slid across the floor to hit the wall.

Anton winced, the crystal may’ve been fake but the watch was genuine, and it hurt him to see a piece of art treated like cheap knockoff.

“Ah,” said Glanni looking around the empty restaurant and nuzzling into Tatiana’s neck. “I should have realized sooner. I was following the trail of the crystal instead of the article itself. I apologize, Íþró.” He pulled away from her when he noticed the smear of blood on her skin, “Ah, more apologies.” He summoned a tissue from the air, “I must look a mess.”

“Of course it’s a fake, old man.” Anton threw his shoulder forward to try and throw Klara off balance but failed. “She showed her hand,” he tilted his head back to Klara, “And I knew it was only a matter of time,” the edges of his mutilated ears practically glowed red. “Tell me,” he growled, “What did you do to her?”

Íþróttaálfurinn looked at Glanni, “Ask her if she knows where it is.” Glanni nodded and whispered into Tatiana’s ear.

“No,” Tatiana answered in a slurred voice, “I didn’t know it was missing.”

“I’m sorry, Íþró,” said Glanni, his eye lids heavy, he leaned on Tatiana.

Íþróttaálfurinn looked at the ceiling, “What did you do with it, Anton, please tell me.”

“Answer my question,” shouted Anton as he attempted to lunge at Glanni but Klara held him back.

“I did what I needed to do, Antosha,” said Glanni as he ran a thumb along Tatiana’s jaw line and glanced at Íþróttaálfurinn, who looked away. “Justice has come for you.”

Anton sneered, “She isn’t a part of this,” he stared at Íþróttaálfurinn and felt the Russian accent slip, “Pabbi?”

Íþróttaálfurinn flinched, “I’m sorry, Anton, but she is now. Glanni told me about your exploits. Told me about her, Tatiana, that’s she tenacious and clever. Your mamma would say that it is because she’s a red head,” he laughed, “That the spirit of the fox runs in her veins.”

“She’s strawberry blonde, at best, Íþróttaálfurinn.” Glanni rolled his eyes.

“Ah,” said Íþróttaálfurinn. “Nonetheless, she fights for you, Anton, right?”

“You kill her, I swear,” growled Anton. “I will mow down every member of The Order and raze the entire organization to the ground, Íþróttaálfurinn.” He slipped almost completely out of the Russian accent, only accentuating random words. “Do you hear me?”

Glanni chuckled, “No one said anything about killing her, my over excited Íþróttsson.” He waved his hand in front of Tatiana’s face, the pink from her eyes vanished, her eyes rolled into the back of her head before fainting. Glanni held her in his arms and gently lowered her to the ground. “What your father so ineloquently tried to say is that she knows too much and it would be easier for everyone if she just,” he snapped his fingers. “Forgot.”

“You’re just putting her in danger,” said Anton. “People know me, they’ll try to find me, and they’ll use her to get to me.”

Íþróttaálfurinn placed a hand on Anton’s shoulder as Klara pushed him forward and glanced over Anton to Glanni.

“Anton lies, Íþró, but don’t worry. The glamour works like virus. If anyone speaks about Anton in her presence,” he gestured to Tatiana on the ground, “The glamour spreads to them so they forget. Eventually, no one will remember Anton and he’ll slip out of the human world easier than he slipped into it.”

Darkness crept onto the edges of Anton’s vision, his heart beat in his throat, and his whole body felt warm. He walked a thin line in life: life and death; justice and injustice; and human and elf. He looked over his shoulder at Tatiana, stirring on the ground, and thought about how she helped him balance on that thin line for so many years. She deserved better than this. “Dasvidaniya,” he murmured.

Klara guided Anton through the busy street but no one paid any heed to him in handcuffs or any present company. Glanni fanned himself with a large hat that manifested in his hand and leaned on Íþróttaálfurinn. More blood ran from his nose. The thin pink strand of mist weaved between stomping feet to follow behind.

Crowds spilt to allow them to pass, Anton heard Glanni groan, “So,” Anton looked at Íþróttaálfurinn, “What happens now, old man?”

Hours later the blonde hostess shook Tatiana, “Ma’am?”

Tatiana’s eyes fluttered open and she struggled to her feet, “Where am I?”

The hostess told her the name of the restaurant and its address but Tatiana still seemed confused. The hostess shrugged, “We don’t open for several more hours so I’m going to have to ask you to leave. But,” She held out a pair of men’s gloves and a man’s watch, the band snapped, “Do these belong to you?”

Tatiana stared at the gloves, “No,” she said but took the from the hostess anyway.

A second passed and they looked at each other, “Clean yourself up,” said the hostess while tapped a finger to her own neck.

Outside the restaurant she walked down the sidewalk, disappearing into the late morning crowds, and stared at the watch. Deep in her mind she felt a thought, one that seemed to refuse to surface, a warm feeling washed over her body whenever she tried to force it. She shook her head to try to clear her mind. She fished her phone out back pocket and dialed a number she knew, “Albert?” How did she know the number or this man? She couldn’t remember. “I have a watch that needs repairs.”


	2. Déjà vu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sportacus is very wary about family finding him in Lazy Town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A heartier chapter this time around.
> 
> EDIT: Chapter tweaked to introduce new character. Thanks for your patience.

A bright sun shined on Lazy Town while the butterflies fluttered from flower to flower. The children played in the grass outside the town in front of Robbie’s billboard. Sportacus jogged around town while Robbie moped on a park bench. The villain was frustrated that children, mere children, made such a racket as to drive him out of his own lair and home.

A low hum echoed over Lazy Town and Sportacus stopped in his tracks. “No,” he breathed. “Not again.” He jumped on the big wall in the middle of town and cupped his hands around his mouth to shout, “Kids, get back into town. Get inside.” He’ll be damned if he was going to let history repeat itself. The kids jumped up and ran through the gates while Robbie hurried over to Sportacus at the wall.

“You said he wouldn’t come back,” said Robbie.

“I don’t know what’s happening, Robbie.” Sportacus watched the kids run from his vantage point on the wall. Five children ran into town but none of them followed Sportacus’s last bit of advice. Instead they all crowded around the big wall where Sportacus stood and Robbie cowered behind.

Trixie looked up into the sky, “Is Anton back?” Sportacus didn’t respond and Robbie sweated bullets. “Don’t worry, Robbie.” Her acknowledgement of him made Robbie flinch. “I took him on twice before and I’ll do it again.” She shot a look at Sportacus on the wall while she tested the bands on her slingshot, “Friends protect each other.”

Twice, sure, but Anton was distracted both times. If Trixie tried to push her luck with an armed international terrorist again she might not make it out alive. However, Sportacus wasn’t prepared to argue semantics with an eight year old. He also ignored her last remark, “No, Trixie. You’re not going to do anything. I want you all to go inside and play a round of Super Metal Lizards, okay?”

The kids didn’t move. Sportacus shaded his eyes from the sun to watch the aircraft circle over town. It became apparent that the aircraft was not the plane Anton flew previously but an airship from The Order. Green instead of Sportacus’s blue. This wasn’t good.

“No,” said Trixie. The rest of the kids stood behind her in awe of her defiance.

The green airship circled around town in a holding pattern larger than Sportacus’s own airship. A rope ladder dropped from the ship near the edge of town but that’s not what grabbed Sportacus’s attention.

A tendril of raspberry pink mist, four inches wide, snaked through the cracks of the main gate’s panels. It slithered along the cobble stones and grew fatter with each passing second. Sportacus jumped off the wall over the kids’ heads to land six feet in front of the mist snake. It reared its head, if it could be called that, at Sportacus’s landing and arched its back up. Up. Up into the air until the mist cloud dwarfed Sportacus.

Behind Sportacus, behind the kids, and behind the wall Robbie risked a peek around the edge and he felt his heart explode with joy, “Frændi Glanni?”

The mist stood like a crack in reality and a cold shudder went down Sportacus’s spine, “Oh no.”

“Wow,” said Pixel with a few taps on his wrist computer. “I’ve never seen something like that before.” Sportacus motioned for him to move back he was too in awe of the pink mist.

A well dressed man in a large hat stepped out of the mist and spun a cane in the air, “Robin,” he cooed as the mist disintegrated behind him. “How’s my little blue egg of joy doing?”

Robbie walked around the big wall and rolled his eyes, “Must you call me that? I’m a grown man.” A smile still pulled at his lips.

In the distance, two people climbed down the ladder of the green airship and walked through the main gates of Lazy Town. A man dressed in gold, his mustache tinged with grey, and a woman wore green. Behind them, slinking down the rope ladder was a strand of neon pink mist, barely wider than a piece of yarn, snaked through the grass behind the two strangers.

“My apologies, darling,” Glanni held his arms open to embrace Robbie, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of your—” he cast a glance at Sportacus over Robbie’s shoulder “—Hero.”

A soft blush colored Robbie’s cheeks, “Glanni, please, not in front of the children.” He murmured into Glanni’s ear, “I have a reputation to uphold here.”

Glanni patted Robbie on the back before he pulled back, “Apologies, apologies, it’s been so long that I just forgot my manners. Didn’t I?”

Trixie squared her shoulders, “I know you,” she pointed a finger at Glanni. “You’re that creep from the club.”

“Goodness,” said Glanni and draped an arm over Robbie’s shoulder as they faced Trixie. “Is that how the town hero taught you to speak to your elders?” He sighed dramatically and pulled down the brim of his large pink hat over his eyes. “How unfortunate.”

A golden blur distracted the children and Sportacus, who took a deep breath to either center himself or to tell off Glanni. Íþróttaálfurinn back flipped (with a twist) off a nearby wall and landed between Sportacus and Glanni. “Hallo,” he said with a big smile, one that did not reach his eyes, and his fists on his waist.

“Wow,” said Ziggy, almost so in awe that he almost dropped his lollipop. “Are you a superhero, too?”

“I am,” said Íþróttaálfurinn with a laugh, “I’m Sportacus’s father, and this is my protégé of sorts—”

“Klara!” Stephanie and Trixie shouted in unison and lunged into a hug with the hero dressed in green who jogged behind Íþróttaálfurinn. Klara, now in a proper green uniform with a round emblem on her heart that read 29, laughed and staggered backwards with the force of the pair of eight year olds. Trixie asked, “Are you guarding the weird old guy?”

A dramatic affronted gasp from Glanni proceeded Klara’s answer. “No, well, in a way. We’re here to talk to Sportacus.”

Ziggy was overcome with a mixture of emotions, first Sportacus’s father was here and he was a hero too and there was another hero. That made three heroes and he was nearly vibrating in his sneakers, “Oh, oh! What’s it like being a hero?” He asked Íþróttaálfurinn. “Does every hero get a cool airship?” He asked Klara. He spun on his heel and faced Sportacus, “Ah!” He dropped his lolli in his excitement.

Klara ducked and caught the lolli by the stick, “You should be more careful,” she said and handed the lolli back to Ziggy. She knelt down to look at Ziggy in the eye, “Let’s see if I can answer your questions,” she giggled and the other kids gathered around them. “It can be dangerous being a Hero but it can fun because we get to meet great kids like you.” She smiled at Trixie and Stephanie, “A lot Heroes get issued an aircraft to help them be better Heroes. Sometimes they get airships and other times they get jets. I used to fly a jet all over the world.”

“Why would having a jet be different from having an airship?” asked Pixel.

“Well,” Klara said with a laugh. “Sportacus watches over towns like Lazy Town, to help kids like you,” she booped Ziggy on the nose. “So he has a cool airship with everything he could ever need. I used to be something of a spy,” she winked at Trixie, “I need to get places fast but I’m helping Íþróttaálfurinn so I needed an airship.” She glanced up at Íþróttaálfurinn, who nodded, “Hey, I have an idea,” she stood up and clapped her hands. “The last village I visited the kids they promised to show me how to play soccer but I was called away before they could. Can you guys teach me?”

“Yeah,” said Stephanie. She followed Klara’s glances and Sportacus’s general discomfort in seeing her again and wanted to avoid a conflict. “That’s a great idea. We can use the sports field to play.”

“We can use my soccer ball,” said Stingy and went to his car to fetch the ball out of the seat. They planned a game but Trixie said she wanted to play tag first.

Íþróttaálfurinn laughed, “What a great idea, Klara!”

Sportacus nodded, “Be sure to have some water on hand and a healthy snack of sportscandy, okay?” He smiled and nodded as the children set off to the sports field. He listened as Trixie, apparently forgetting Glanni’s existence, excitedly tell Klara about Lazy Town, pointing out specific landmarks, and told her some of Robbie’s more memorable schemes.

The smile on Íþróttaálfurinn faltered as he watched the children walk away. Glanni and Robbie talked among themselves, catching up. They seemed happy but looking at his own son, arms crossed over his chest and a frown on his face, he wished it could be better. He wondered where, exactly, it all went wrong. “Hello, Sport.” He awkwardly embraced his son. “I know it’s been a long time.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Sportacus unfurled his arms to pat his father on the back. “The last time family found me here it was, uh, interesting to say the least.”

“I heard,” Íþróttaálfurinn pulled back and held Sportacus’s head in between his hands. He used his thumbs to push the brim of Sportacus’s cap up to reveal the pink scar in the center of Sportacus’s forehead, “It doesn’t look bad and will certainly fade in time.”

Robbie watched Íþróttaálfurinn and glanced at Glanni, who followed Robbie’s gaze and had a look of feigned innocence, he shrugged Glanni’s arm off. “Did you have to hurt him?”

“Robin,” Glanni held his hands on top of his cane. “I only did what I needed to do. Anton needed to be taught a lesson and he only cares about three people, including himself.” Glanni shrugged, “No real harm was going to come to him.”

“You slipped him simple syrup in his vodka.”

Glanni’s eyes glazed over as his eyes drifted over Robbie’s shoulder, “Says the man who hands him a sugar apple twice a month.” He sighed and massaged his temple, “Hypocrisy breeds arrogance, Robin.”

Robbie snorted but held his tongue.

“Stop,” said Sportacus and pushed Íþróttaálfurinn away and pulled the brim of the cap down. “I don’t care to be around your lover for longer than I need to, so please, tell me why you’re here? I don’t think I can handle another family reunion.”

Íþróttaálfurinn placed a hand on the back of Sportacus’s neck and pulled him close again to touch his forehead to Sportacus’s. “I’m sorry for what he did, I am.” Íþróttaálfurinn  sighed, “It’s time for this to be over. Where’s Anton’s crystal?”

The smell of fish oil filled Sportacus’s nostrils. It reminded him of being a little elfling in his pabbi’s arms. “I don’t know,” continued Sportacus.

“Adorable,” said Glanni slinking beside Sportacus. “Cute even,” he poked Sportacus in the shoulder with the end of his cane. “Anton doesn’t trust many people, Sportacus. We know it’s in Lazy Town. Just tell us where it is and give an old elf some peace of mind.”

Íþróttaálfurinn’s head fell onto Sportacus’s shoulder. “He’s right, Sport,” Íþróttaálfurinn  said with a sigh.

“You say you don’t know where the crystal is than you won’t mind if Íþróttaálfurinn here takes a look in your airship, right?” Glanni turned to Robbie, “I need to take a look around your lair, Robbie. I’m sorry but you know how the Íþróttssons operate, they only trust a select few.”

Robbie and Sportacus stared at Glanni. “I am nothing like him,” protested Sportacus.

“I don’t know anything about any crystal,” said Robbie. “Except, of course,” he made a vague gesture to Sportacus and to the center of his own chest before he shrugged.

“No,” Íþróttaálfurinn said as he stepped back from Sportacus. “He’s right. Anton only trusts a select few. The woman knew nothing and she’s no longer a part of this. That only leaves you.”

Sportacus took several steps back away from his father, “You killed her? How could you do that, pabbi?” He felt like he couldn’t breathe knowing that his father would do this.

A light whip across the back startled Sportacus enough to regulate his breathing, “Both of you are the same, I swear,” said Glanni and whipped Sportacus across the back again, lighter this time, to punctuate his next statement. “Overdramatic pessimists,” Glanni sighed. “Ms. Creel is fine; I only wiped her memory of Anton.” He winked, “It’s one of my favorite little tricks,” he flicked his cane into the air, grabbed it, and ran one hand down its length. “Perfect for exes.”

“That seems unnecessarily cruel,” Sportacus spoke to Íþróttaálfurinn and not to Glanni. “You seem to have missed someone or a safe deposit box somewhere because I don’t have his watch.” Íþróttaálfurinn looked at the sky and Sportacus shrugged, “Sorry you wasted your time,” he walked over to Robbie away from Íþróttaálfurinn   and Glanni. “You want to go watch the kids play soccer?”

Glanni spun his cane, “You’re deflecting,” he smiled. “I know that trick well,” he tapped his cane on the grounded three times. Tendrils of mist erupted from the end and went searching for Robbie. “Íþró, darling, inspect the airship while I investigate the lair. I prefer to be thorough, you understand?”

“Wait,” said Sportacus, “Why do you care?” About the crystal, Anton, or what The Order wants?”

Glanni’s gaze flickered to Íþróttaálfurinn but Sportacus caught it. “Oh, honey, I don’t.” The mist crawled up Glanni and Robbie’s legs. “I’m just petty,” he smiled and they disappeared into a cloud of pink mist. “Ta-ta,” said Glanni’s disembodied voice.

They left Íþróttaálfurinn and Sportacus alone, “You think I’m lying?” Sportacus looked at his father, but his father avoided his gaze.

“He’s right. I don’t like to say that very often but he’s right. It’s best that we be thorough. We captured Anton last week but the crystal in his wristwatch was a fake. I know he sent it off to protect it but we don’t know where.” He groaned and rubbed the back of his neck, “Again, Glanni’s right. Anton only trusted a select few and we, The Order, thought that after what happened in Russia…”

“You know, I like how you trust that degenerate more than your own flesh and blood. He sexually assaulted me. He fired a gun, a loaded gun, against my head.”

Íþróttaálfurinn tugged at his moustache, “I don’t trust Glanni more than you, Sport, but he’s right.” He stopped his fidgeting and looked at Sportacus, “You’re deflecting.”

“Since when does Anton trust me? Six months ago was the first time we’ve spoken in about two decades.”

“You two were inseparable as children,” said Íþróttaálfurinn. “Call your ladder, please; I don’t want this to drag on longer than it needs to be, Sport.”

Sportacus looked up at the sky at his airship, he looked at his father, and looked out to the billboard. He wished that Robbie was by his side just for this moment. “Ladder!”

***

Robbie coughed and sputtered as they emerged out of the cloud of mist into his underground lair. “I don’t know if I can ever get used to that,” said Robbie waving way mist from his face while behind him, Glanni surveyed the lair. The neon pink strand of mist snaked through the entrance silo of Robbie’s lair and stood contrast to the raspberry pink of Glanni’s own disintegrating mist.

“I’m sure you’ll get used to it in time if you kept up your practices,” Glanni pulled off the hat by the brim and tossed it aside with the cane watching it disintegrated in the air.

His arms out wide, Robbie stood in the center of the lair, “I don’t know what you expect to find here. Sportacus told me that Anton wouldn’t contact him again after what happened in Russia.”

***

Íþróttaálfurinn and Sportacus climbed the rope ladder quickly into the airship: a pristine white modern interior with accents of blue and red. The bed, usually tucked into the wall, was out and on the white cot sat a polished wood box. Íþróttaálfurinn sighed, “Sportacus.”

“Surprise, surprise, huh?” Sportacus leaned on the edge of the cockpit and faced Íþróttaálfurinn, “What happens now?”

Hinges creaked as Íþróttaálfurinn  opened the wooden box to reveal, indeed, Anton’s watch. A note tucked into the recess of the lid read, simply, ‘Take care of this for me. Anton.’ “Number 100 is going to want to speak to you,” said Íþróttaálfurinn.

“Am I an accomplice now?”

“Yes. She and the council may not want to take any further actions about this,” Íþróttaálfurinn snapped the lid of the watch box shut. “However, they will want to speak to both of you about when Anton abandoned his post.” Íþróttaálfurinn   drummed his fingers against the polished wood. “Did you know he was alive before the incident in Russia?”

“What could I say that would change anything, right now?”

Íþróttaálfurinn walked to the cockpit, “We should leave now.”

“No.” Sportacus didn’t move from his position against the cockpit, “How am I an accomplice to anything but you and your, and I quote ‘back alley rendezvous’ with Glanni Glæpur,” Íþróttaálfurinn’s cheeks flushed red while Sportacus spoke, “Exempt? Klara, down there, she’s ambitious and wants to rise in rank. She didn’t care about another Hero and poisoned him in her pursuit of glory. How is she exempt from this?”

“We’re not,” Íþróttaálfurinn drummed his fingers on the wooden watch box. “Klara has spoken to the council about her actions in Russia involving Glanni. They agreed that she did what she did in order to not blow her cover. We all had our suspicions so she came with us to redeem herself, somewhat, and to watch over Lazy Town in your absence.”

Hair prickled on the back of Sportacus’s neck, “Excuse me?”

Íþróttaálfurinn ignored Sportacus’s last question, “Your mothers agreed and forced me in front of the council years ago for those,” he cleared his throat, “rendezvous.” He walked across the airship to look out the domed glass window, “Said it was hypocritical for a Hero to be fucking a criminal in a back alley in return for his freedom.” Sportacus stared at his father and his father stared out the window. “They took my crystal for it,” he stared down at the closed box in his hands. “They gave it to Anton in the crystal ceremony the next day.”

Unconsciously, Sportacus touched the emblem that housed his own crystal on his chest. “I didn’t realize.”

“No, you wouldn’t have.” Íþróttaálfurinn tugged at the end of his cap, unadorned, something Sportacus hadn’t thought to take notice of before now. “Everything happened so quickly after that,” he said and the hinges creaked as he opened the watch box again. “Everything changes so fast, doesn’t it? Actions and consequences, Sportacus. No more running,” he snapped the box shut.

Sportacus walked around the cockpit to stand beside his father, “Why are you here, pabbi, really? Are you here to redeem yourself?”

“Like I said, Klara will watch over Lazy Town and the surrounding area in your absence. I wouldn’t worry about them,” Íþróttaálfurinn patted Sportacus on the shoulder.

Lazy Town seemed quiet as ever, through the domed window Sportacus watched Klara play with the kids on the sports field, although they looked small from his vantage point in the air. “This was the only way today was going to end, wasn’t it?” He watched a small pink blob, Stephanie, run across the field. The green airship hovered over Lazy Town and Sportacus felt a white hot rage at its existence.

“Yes.” Íþróttaálfurinn turned away from the window. “You ran away, like Anton, but now it’s time to go home.”

“I’m nothing like him,” said Sportacus. “Besides, this is my home.” Sportacus stared at the billboard to see if he could see the tendrils of pink mist seep out of the cracks of the hidden door like he assumed it snaked around underground. Something nagged at him, a dangerous thought, “So Klara is here to take my place, you’re here to escort me back to base, but why is Glanni here?”

Íþróttaálfurinn jumped into the cockpit, hit the switch to power the engines, and set his feet on the pedals. “I think you know why, Sportacus.” The watch box sat between his legs and he looked up at Sportacus standing above him, “I’m sorry.”

***

A few moments passed as Glanni closed his eyes and focused, “It’s not here,” he breathed out. “I know the energy of that crystal and it’s not here.”

Robbie raised an eyebrow, “You ‘know the energy?’”

“Yes,” Glanni looked to the ground. “It’s a story for another time, Robin.” He sighed, “I’m sure that Íþróttaálfurinn has the crystal. Sportacus is the last person Anton trusts.” He looked at Robbie, head to toe, “Come here,” he held his arms wide open and walked over to embrace Robbie. “Robin,” Glanni cooed and held Robbie close, “My blue egg of joy,” his voice cracked.

Robbie tried to push Glanni away, “Glanni?” However, Glanni gripped him closer.

“This is for the best, Robbie, I’m sorry,” said Glanni. “You’re a gentle soul and I want to spare you the pain.”

The neon pink snake grew ten times larger in a single second. However, it didn’t react fast enough.

Robbie’s struggled against his uncle’s embrace but soon pink seeped into his eyes and his arms went slack behind Glanni’s back.

Glanni rested his head on Robbie’s shoulder, “My sweet little Robin. I don’t want you to suffer the heartbreak of your lover leaving. It seems harsh, I know, I just,” he rubbed small circles on Robbie’s back and tears leaked out his eyes. “I just want what’s best for you. Perhaps it’s misguided but I would give anything to just not remember some people in my life.”

He guided Robbie over to the hardly used bedroom tucked into the furthest corner of the lair. Robbie laid in the bed and Glanni waved his hand over Robbie’s face. The pink vanished from Robbie’s eyes, he gasped for air, his back arched off the bed and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. “It’s better this way, Robbie,” said Glanni as he watched Robbie settle back onto the bed. His chest rose and fell gently, “You’ll see.” He braced himself on the nearby nightstand. “You’ll see.”

“What the flying fuck, Glanni,” shouted a woman emerging from the neon pink cloud. Short wavy black hair framed a strong jaw line and beautifully made up face. “What is wrong with you?”

Exhausted, still reeling from last week’s excursion, Glanni limped out of the bedroom back into the main lair. “Stop following me, Fúna,” he muttered while leaning heavily against the Automatic Wardrobe 3000. Sweat trickled down his temples and blood dripped from his nose. “We’re not children anymore; you’re my sister not my keeper, okay?”

“Hm,” said Fúna, “And yet someone has to be because of how reckless you are.”

Glanni just needed a short nap, then he’ll be just as new, he thought, as he passed by the mirror hanging from the ceiling. His previously pitch black hair was speckled with grey now and the lines by his mouth were more prominent. “I did what was best for your boy, okay?” He fell into the armchair and ran his fingers through the orange fur. He wondered if Robbie knew just how much magic he was unconsciously shedding onto the chair, Glanni yawned, but that was a conversation for another time.

“If you love that memory trick so much,” Fúna tilted Glanni’s head back, “I should do it on you without your consent and see how well you like it.”

Glanni could barely keep his eyes open, “I get it, I’m sorry. I didn’t think Sportacus was coming back and I would hate for Robbie to have his heart broken like that.”

“You need to stop underestimating him, Glanni, and let him make his own decisions. If anyone needs to forget a partner it’s you.” Fúna ran her thumb over his lip to wipe away the blood, “You’re too obsessed with that damned Íþróttaálfurinn. Didn’t you listen to every elder in the village? Never trust an elf.”

“I’m a big boy,” Glanni curled up in the armchair, “Thank you very much.”

“Time to go home,” Fúna said as she pulled Glanni up out of the armchair. “Can’t have my twin brother looking like a mess,” she swung his arm over her shoulder. “It reflects poorly on me,” she led him, half carried him, to the still open portal a few steps away by the entrance silo. “After I clean you up I’ll clean up your mess.” They stepped through the portal and it shrank behind them. Disappearing a moment later.

***

Íþróttaálfurinn pedaled the airship away from Lazy Town. “I’m sorry you couldn’t say goodbye, Sport, I really am,” he said while he flipped switches to maximize speed in the bulky airship.

Sportacus sat cross legged on the floor of his airship, “We must face the consequences of our actions, huh?” He craned his neck to watch Lazy Town disappear into the distance, “Those poor kids though, they won’t understand.” No statement or condolence from Íþróttaálfurinn made Sportacus bury his face in his hands, “There’s something else isn’t there?”

***

“Hey, look,” said Trixie as she pointed up into the sky at the airship flying away from Lazy Town. The soccer ball slowed to a stop in the middle of the field as all the children craned their necks to watch. Trixie walked up to Klara on the other side of the sports field, “Where are they going, Klara?”

“Uh,” said Klara wondering the best ways of phrasing Elven bureaucracy for a group of children. “Íþróttaálfurinn needs Sportacus’s help,” she said ending in an upward inflection by accident. “I’m sure he’s going to be back soon.”

“I guess that makes sense,” said Ziggy, “Heroes help Heroes, after all.”

“That’s right,” said Klara. She scooped up the soccer ball, “I think now is a good time for that snack of, what was it?” She tossed the ball up in the air absentmindedly, “Ah, Sportscandy. That’s what he called it.” Her nose scrunched up as she smiled, “That’s right.”

The kids nodded and walked to the sidelines where they kept their bottles of water and snacks. All except Stephanie who only grabbed her purse.

“The apples are mine,” said Stingy.

“Shove it, Stingy,” said Trixie before she bit into an apple.

Stephanie swung the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “I have to go tell Robbie,” she told those gathered along the sidelines, “He’s going to be so upset.” The other kids agreed through mouths full of sportscandy and sipped water while Klara attempted to spin the ball on her finger.

Stephanie adjusted the purse and set off towards the billboard that hid Robbie’s no-longer-hidden lair. Above her in the clear blue sky, the airship disappeared over the horizon.

The knocks echoed through the lair and stirred Robbie from his sleep. He ran his hands over the duvet and wondered how he got to his bed because the last thing he remembered was…no wait. He couldn’t’ remember. “What, what, what is it?” He muttered as he walked through the lair to the ladder leading up the silo. “What, what,” he said and threw open the entrance hatch. “What is it?”

“Hi, Robbie,” said Stephanie with a wave. “I, uh,” she stood on the ladder and leaned against the silo. “I just wanted to let you know that Sportacus left Lazy Town.” Mist pooled out from Robbie’s hands on the interior silo ladder unbeknownst to either him or Stephanie. “We kind of, you know, guessed that you two were boyfriends.” The mist seeped over the edge of the silo and crawled along the Stephanie’s dress. “I didn’t want you to be upset that he left without saying goodbye or anything.”

Robbie raised an eyebrow, “Sportawho, pink girl? What are you talking about?”

“Robbie, you know,” said Stephanie. “Sporta—”

Pink, to match her dress, filled Stephanie’s eyes. Her mouth went slack and she tilted backwards on the ladder. Robbie, not seeing the pink in her eyes, grabbed her wrist. “What are you doing, Stephanie?” He nearly shouted as he pulled her forward and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “Trying to scare the jellybeans out of me?”

The pink vanished from her eyes, “Huh,” she said into the fabric of Robbie’s waistcoat. “How did I get here?”

“You walked,” said Robbie and held Stephanie by the shoulders. “Go away. I was in the middle of a nap.”

Stephanie nodded, “I wanted to tell you something about,” she looked up into the clear cloudless sky. “Uh,” she blinked a few times and looked into Robbie’s eyes. “I don’t remember.”

“Yes, yes, funny joke,” Robbie climbed the next couple of rungs of the interior ladder and gently held Stephanie’s upper arms. “Get off my ladder and go home or go find that Green Wallaby to bother. Like I said,” he held her gently as she climbed down the ladder, “I was in the middle of a nap.”

“Green…” said Stephanie when she was on solid ground. “I don’t know…”

***

Íþróttaálfurinn  and Sportacus looked straight through the domed window at the green expanse of land. “He said the glamour worked like a virus,” said Íþróttaálfurinn in reference to Glanni. “I don’t know if anyone is going to remember you, Sport.”

Sportacus fell backwards onto to the floor of his airship. The hum of the engines and the slight squeak of the pedals filled his head but his chest felt empty. It felt like he wanted to cry, shout, or even punch his father. He couldn’t move, his limbs buzzed with static and he felt numb. “Consequences, huh?” He wished that knew sooner that the consequences involved ruining the strongest relationship he’s had in years. If he knew that, he would’ve stabbed Anton on that mountaintop years ago. It was over.

“I can’t believe you fucked that guy,” said Sportacus to the ceiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.


	3. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anton and Sportacus remember that fateful night on the mountaintop when just everything went wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am bitterly finishing this fic so be on the lookout for updates in the future.
> 
> Here's where the blood, death, violence, and vomit tags come into play.

Robbie asked Stephanie several times if she needed help, not phrased like that of course, but she waved him off. He was unconvinced and walked with her to the door of the billboard and watched her walk, slowly, back into town proper. When she got in range of Klara Robbie rolled his eyes and climbed back into the silo.

“Back to that nap,” said Robbie while he fell backwards into his orange armchair. The smell of hookah smoke lingered in the fur, he didn’t know how or why, but it lulled him into a deep sleep.

“You okay, Stephanie?” Trixie asked when Stephanie made her way back to the sports field. “How did Robbie take it?”

Stephanie scratched the back of her head, “Take what?”

“About Sportacus,” said Ziggy. Pink mist seeped out from the soles of Stephanie’s shoes. “Is he okay? Should we go keep him company?” The mist crawled over the grass towards Ziggy’s shoes. “I mean, he must be real lone—”

Klara dropped the ball and dove to make sure Ziggy didn’t slam his head on the rubberized asphalt, “You okay, Ziggy? You must be more careful,” she set him on his feet.

“Yeah,” said Ziggy, with a shake of his head. “What was I talking about?”

“Let’s get off the sports field,” said Klara quickly with a clap of her hands. “I think we’re all tired from the game so let’s have a picnic on the grass. How does that sound?”

They all stared at her, “Yeah, okay,” said Pixel slowly. “I guess that sounds all right.” No one made a move to leave the sports field though.

The others nodded in agreement with Klara and Trixie said to Ziggy, “You asked Stephanie about what happened at Robbie’s and then you fainted.”

“Oh,” said Ziggy. “What was Stephanie doing?”

“What is wrong with all of you?” said Trixie. She kicked the soccer ball and it went sailing over the low wall. Stingy gasped and shrieked about his ball and went after it. “Stephanie said she wanted to tell Robbie about Sportacus leaving—”

Pink mist pooled out of the soles of Stephanie’s shoes and the palms of Ziggy’s hands. Tendrils crawled along the ground to Trixie.

“—Which, Stephanie, you never answered. When she came back we asked her about it and then you, Ziggy, fainted. Why is this so hard?” She threw up her hands and as she looked to the sky her eyes clouded over with pink.

Klara grabbed her by the shoulders as Trixie swayed, “You should be more careful,” she said while Trixie shook her head. “Let’s get off the sports field,” said Klara. “I think you’re all a little overexerted right now.” She smiled but it looked strained and fake. “How does that sound?”

“What happenend?” asked Trixie rubbing her head. “What was I talking about?”

“Nothing, Trixie, nothing. You’re just a little dehydrated,” said Klara, “Let’s get some water in you and sit you down.” She looked over at Ziggy and Stephanie, both swayed on their feet, “Come on, let’s go sit on the grass and cool down.”

Stingy returned with his soccer ball and stood by Pixel, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” said Pixel, “But it’s weird.” He tapped on his wrist computer, “Trixie just fainted just after you left.

Stingy polished the soccer ball with his sleeve, “That is weird. Any idea why?”

“Klara said they were dehydrated.” Pixel flipped down his visor and continued typing. “I wish I had my scanner here then we would know exactly what’s wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong,” said Klara, her smile hollow and the bag of sportscandy slung over her shoulder, “They’re just a little tired. That’s all.” The three kids behind her held their water bottles, “Come on, let’s have a little picnic. It’ll be fun.” The other kids followed after her as she walked off the sports field.

Pixel typed the word, “Sportacus” on his wrist computer as a reminder and followed the other kids to the grassy hill.

***

Anton asked Íþróttaálfurinn what would happen next but he already knew: execution. Heroes protect each other. You protect your brothers and sisters in The Order.

He didn’t.

_The first mission they were assigned after receiving their crystals was a simple one: extract a human diplomat from a stronghold in the mountains. Four Heroes, still in their black trainee uniforms, strategized together on the mountain top overlooking the mansion where intel said the terrorists held the diplomat._

_“Okay,” said Number 4, a female elf that tugged at the brim of her cap to try and cover her fiery red hair along with her ears. “Two teams of two. One goes high and the other goes low,” she pointed to entry points on the map of the mansion. “We sneak behind their backs to find the diplomat and get out ASAP.” She looked up, “Should work, yeah?”_

_Number 2, a human woman, tossed aside a chewed toothpick, “’Should’ is the figurative word here.” She pointed a finger (two actually, as the stump of her pinkie finger didn’t bend like it should anymore) at a man patrolling the mansion, “Like pests. If you see one there’s bound to be more. We should assume he’s armed.”_

_“Of course,” said Anton, Number 6. “4 and 2,” he spoke to the two women, “You two go high. 10 and I will go low.”_

_Number 4 balked, “What? Shouldn’t we spilt it up so 2 goes with 10 and you and I will work together? It’ll be safer.”_

_“No,” said Anton. The other three Heroes stared at him._

_“It’s going to be okay,” said Sportacus, the number 10 emblazoned on his chest. “Be covert and work quickly,” he tossed rope and other climbing equipment to Number 2, “We’ll find you.” He smiled and held them both by the shoulders, “Trust in the crystals.” They murmured the phrase back to him and nodded._

_Sweat prickled Number 2’s forehead even in the cool night air as she looked back at the twin brothers while she slung the rope over her shoulder. “We’ll secure the diplomat and you’ll clear the area for the extraction, yeah?”_

_“Trust,” said Sportacus and watched them trek over the mountains. “Anton? We should move.”_

_Anton did not move, he leaned against the rocks and pulled back the cover on the bracelet that housed his crystal. “Why did they always tell us to ‘trust in the crystals’?” He ran his finger around the edge of his own crystal before replacing the cover and looked up at Sportacus. “What’s so important about a bunch of rocks?”_

_“You know why, Anton,” said Sportacus. The brothers faced each other, “We need to move. Every moment we’re here we’re putting 2 and 4 in danger.” He grabbed Anton by the arm but Anton shook him off._

_“Oh, I know,” said Anton. “I told the terrorists to expect them in return for my services and a favor.”_

_Shots echoed from the mansion illustrating Anton’s point, Sportacus tried to run down the mountain side but Anton grabbed his arm._

_“Leave them,” breathed Anton, his eyes wild. “They’re a lost cause. Come with me and we can make a new life for ourselves away from The Order and their bullshit._

_“No, never,” said Sportacus. “I protect my—” he stopped himself from saying brothers “—sisters in The Order. It’s what Heroes do.” He wretched his arm away Anton and punched him in the nose._

_Anton staggered back and checked his hand to look at the blood on his fingertips. Another bang in the mansion distracted Sportacus enough for Anton to place a booted foot into his stomach to force Sportacus onto his back. “Consider this my goodbye, Sport.”_

_A bloodied knuckle hand held his stomach as Sportacus groaned, “They’re going to die, Antoninus,” he shouted at his retreating brother. “You can’t just leave.”_

_“They’re weak,” said Anton breathing hard. “If they can’t save themselves we’re just slowing the inevitable.” He laughed, it was hollow and deranged, and it was loud as he ripped the Number Six patch off his chest. “You’re just like the rest of them, Sport, weak and soft.” He threw the patch into the dirt at Sportacus’s feet._

_“Antoninus?”_

_“He’s dead, Sportacus.”_

Íþróttaálfurinn and the waitress escorted him through the sleek corridors of The Order’s home base: a large floating base that housed and trained The Order of 100’s Heroes. The edges were littered with landing strips and areas to dock other aircrafts while the interior of the base housed sleeping and training areas. Glanni, for all his worth, opted to sit this one out and murmured something in Íþróttaálfurinn’s ear about knowing where to find him about their next move.

Anton stared at the ground, lost in thought, he wondered if he could’ve said something different to convince Sportacus to come with him all those years ago. It could’ve been better, they could’ve disappeared, it didn’t have to end like this, right?

All conversations stopped wherever they escorted Anton, all eyes were on him, and then the conversations began again behind his back. However, he was too caught up in his own head to notice or care. The waitress showed her hand, he knew they would come after him for the crystal. No, it was his. He earned it. Only the strong earn a crystal to a Hero and Anton proved his worth. He would die before he lost it as was his right.

He worked behind Tatiana’s back, why involve her in this, and had a duplicate crystal made and put into an identical watch. The real watch, placed in a wooden watch box, sat in a safety deposit box for several months until he started to flinch at every shadow. Panicked, a month ago, Anton made up his mind, he sat outside a café with a bag. Inside the bag was the polished wooden watch box and a note all tucked into a plain brown box with no return address. A man sat down at his table and Anton told the man to have it delivered to the pilot at the hangar with specific instructions. Or else.

Íþróttaálfurinn led him the prison section: a circular section of cells located three levels below the main level of the base. The guard looked Anton over and his gaze lingered on Íþróttaálfurinn for an uncomfortably long moment before he dismissed the waitress and his father.

“As I live and breathe,” said the guard while he escorted Anton to a holding room to process him. “I never thought I would see a Hero fall so far from grace.” He deposited Anton at the holding room door while two other guards took over. “Let alone one of the Íþróttssons,” he whistled as he walked away.

One guarded the door and another stood in front of a table with a bin, a folded pile of bedding, and a prison uniform. The door guard ushered Anton into the room to stand in front of the table with the other guard.

 “Ay,” said the door guard to the table guard tapping on the tablet with a stylus, “The whole family is just one whole cluster fuck, remember?” The door guard adjusted his belt while the table guard tapped on the tablet. Neither noticed the edges of Anton’s ears glow red or his sneer. “Father fucked that criminal for Goddess knows how long before he was turned in.” He rocked on his heels, “The twins were a part of that disaster of a mission near thirty years ago, you remember that one?”

More taps on the tablet with a stylus, “Can’t say that I do,” said the table guard.

“Two dead, one wounded, and that one missing,” he pointed to Anton. “The dorms were filled with rumors about what happened for weeks. Some said he was dead. Others said he organized the kidnapping and killed two Heroes.”

The table guard slid the stylus back into its holder and placed the tablet on the table. Unshackled Anton and held Anton’s hand on the tablet screen, “Good,” he said when the tablet dinged. “Get dressed and drop your clothes into the bin there.” He gestured vaguely to the neatly folded beige uniform, slip-on shoes, and the bin. “Yeah, I was too young,” he said to the door guard while he slipped the stylus out to tap on the tablet again.

Anton’s hands trembled with barely suppressed rage as he tossed his jacket into the bin and undid his tie.

The door guard continued like he didn’t hear the table guard speak, lost in his own thoughts. “Rumors only got worse when one of the few Heroes to earn a rank Ten upon graduation came back shell-shocked and said he wanted to a Sports Elf.” He tucked his thumbs into his belt loops and rested one hand on the butt of his baton.

Anton slipped the undone tie from around his neck. The table guard focused on his tablet and the door guard stared at a corner of the ceiling; neither noticed Anton wrap the tie around his hands.

“What a pointless title,” scoffed the door guard, “Sports Elf.”

Anton took his chance and leapt for the door guard’s throat. “Watch what you say,” he shouted as he twisted the tie around the guard’s neck, “About my family!”

The table guard fumbled with the stylus, dropped it, and dropped the tablet itself before he went to the baton on his belt. The door guard gagged and scratched at Anton with one hand and tried to reach for his baton with the other. Table guard shouted an incomprehensible warning before he bashed Anton on the shoulder. The shock loosened his grip and door guard pushed Anton away.

“Fuck you—” spat Anton at door guard while table guard pulled him back “—and fuck your mother.”

The table guard hit Anton on the shoulder with the baton again while door guard slammed on a red emergency button.

Anton fell to the floor and people swarmed the room. A needle was jabbed into his arm.

Anton swore in Russian.

Everything went dark.

***

Tatiana padded around her apartment with the watch in a box in one hand and an unopened bottle of vodka in the other. Albert, a man she didn’t quite remember, fixed the wristwatch band and gave her the box all free from charge. He spoke very little but made promises that the quality would be long lasting, unlike the last time. He said that several times, ‘not like last time’, she tried to remember the last time.

A different apartment, sparsely furnished, bright sunlight, “Why dawn?” she remembered saying to…someone. A man, blond, and, uh. The warm feeling washed over her entire body. She tried to fight against it. A man, blond, fair skin, blue eyes, and his name was—

She woke up on the floor a few minutes later, groaning she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She dropped the watch and clumsily unscrewed the (thankfully undamaged) vodka bottle. She didn’t care how long it took.

She was going to remember.

***

Sportacus watched the ceiling of his airship. Why didn’t he fight back? He knew how to fight, ranked top in his classes for hand-to-hand combat and knife skills before he was awarded his crystal. He couldn’t fight back against his father, who dragged him away from his home; couldn’t fight back his brother, who initially left him and other Heroes for dead. He was a coward. He ran away after that mission to work as a Sports Elf, a title his father was proud to bear. Maybe a little too proud seeing how Sportacus was named after it. If anyone asked, he did it for his father.

No, the truth was he did it to try and save other children like Anton. Fear, anger, and hatred are no emotions for a child to feel so deeply when they should be playing and laughing. They should be collecting bugs not hording bandages. Children should be building forts of twigs for their toys not sharpening shears to perform amateur otoplasy. If he helped enough children than maybe it would fill the void in his heart from never seeing how much pain Anton felt before it was too late.

“We’re here,” said Íþróttaálfurinn, the sounds of the airship docking confirming that, yes, they had arrived at Home Base.

Sportacus couldn’t face them. Not after what happened.

_Another bang, Sportacus grabbed the Number Six patch from the dirt and shoved in a pocket as he ran down the mountainside, he had to hope there was still time to save 2 and 4 inside. Pabbi,_ _móðir _, and mamma always said he was an optimist and it was the only thing he had driving him at this moment.__

_Sportacus kicked down the door of the mansion and took in his surroundings. Anton told them to go high so that’s where he needed to go, they could’ve gotten far._

_“Hey,” shouted a man in the parlor brandishing a gun at Sportacus._

_Bad move, thought Sportacus as he pulled a knife from his belt and threw it into the center of the man’s chest. The man fell back and Sportacus moved on. He wanted to be just like his father, yes, but sometimes pacifism was too time consuming. No, that was Anton’s thinking. This was self defense._

_A woman screamed upstairs, Sportacus pulled the knife out of the man’s chest and the sidearm out of his hands. He ran up the stairs._

_Blood pooled on the landing, Sportacus slid a least a yard in his haste but he kept his footing. The smell of copper stung his nostrils and with it flew all the knowledge about covert stealth he learned in the academy. He followed blood and told himself over and over that it wasn’t Number 2’s blood, she was too strong; it wasn’t Number 4’s blood, she was too quick. They were ambushed, and scared, Number 2 may’ve screamed but they kept their wits about them._

_“Roll call,” Sportacus shouted as he sheathed the bloody knife and readied the gun. “4?” There were going to die, “2?” And he wasn’t helping. Blood smears led to a partially open door, he took a deep breath, and tried to remember his training while he slowly opened the door. Remember, he thought, the muzzle should follow your eyes, check the corners, and…_

_The door creaked opened and he saw the scene before him and forgot all his training. Number 4’s red hair blended with the blood on the tiles and Number 2 sat slumped against the wall. A man, tied to a chair, sat in the center of the room with his chin against his chest. Sportacus didn’t need to probe him to figure out if the man, the human diplomat, was alive or dead._

_Taken in by the carnage in front of him Sportacus was unaware of the attacker that snuck up behind him. The man slipped a knife out of a thigh holster and stabbed Sportacus in the seam of his body armor. “Surprise, fucker,” he said and twisted the handle._

_Sportacus fell to his knee with a scream of pain that intensified when his assailant pulled the knife out. Arm shaking, the other one held pressure to the wound, Sportacus aimed the hand gun. His assailant laughed._

_A shout down the hall distracted them both._

_“Hey,” shouted Anton, he fired two shots from a sidearm, the butt dripping with blood. One hit the man in the chest and the other hit him between the eyes._

_Gun at his side, the brothers stared at each other for a moment, “Sport,” said Anton when Sportacus struggled to his feet._

_Footsteps pounded up the stairs, men shouting, Sportacus stared at Anton. The diplomat was dead, blood trickled out of his mouth. Bait, if anything, to draw them here. Number 4’s eyes stared unblinking at the ceiling, a bullet hole in her chest. A red visceral slit decorated Number’s 2’s throat like a gory necklace._

_"Wait,” said Anton._

_Sportacus knew better. He shot half the gun’s magazine into the windows behind the dead diplomat and ran, staggered more like, into the room. Ripped the crystals off Number 2’s and Number 4’s wrists and spun on his heel to shoot the rest of the magazine out the door. The shots flew high over the heads of any assailants coming at him._

_“Sport,” shouted Anton, “Wait!”_

_Too late. Sportacus shoved the crystals into his pocket, above the Number 6 patch; tossed the gun, covered his head with his arms, and jumped out the window._

_Good thing Sportacus knew how to land (tuck and roll!) He staggered away from the mansion to the jet. Sportacus needed to get to it before Anton, assuming that Anton even wanted the damn thing if he wanted to leave behind his heritage, or any of the terrorists got their wits together._

_A bullet pinged off the rock near his feet, they got their wits together, blood dripped into the dirt at his feet. He practically fell into the seat and managed to take off before setting the jet on auto pilot._

_Much of the following events were a blur to Sportacus as he flew the jet back to Home Base. He drifted in and out of consciousness, he tried to bandage himself up, thanking the Goddess that the knife missed a major artery._

_Minutes, hours, maybe even days later Sportacus woke up in the hospital wing stripped, stitched, and bandaged. A nurse stood over him, “Awake?” asked the nurse snapping off her gloves._

_Sportacus blinked a few times in response and groaned in pain instead of asking her any poignant questions. Blinding white surrounded him on all sides except in the corner. Íþróttaálfurinn slept in a chair, his arms crossed and his chin on his chest._

_“That’s good,” said the nurse in response to her own question and checked his pupils with a penlight._ _“Do you want anything for the pain?”_

_Sportacus shook his head no even though the small movement sent waves of pain through his whole body. No, he deserved this._

_She nodded, unconvinced as she was, but finished her tasks and left the room without another word._

_The conversation stirred Íþróttaálfurinn awake, “S_ _onur,_ _” he got up from the chair like a shot and gently, very gently, pressed his forehead to Sportacus’s. “You’re okay.”_

_“Sure,” said Sportacus in a weak voice and an even weaker laugh._

_Tears fell on Sportacus’s face, noticing, Íþróttaálfurinn pulled away. “Sportacus,” he spoke softer and more tears fell, “What happened to your brother?” He unfurled the Number Six patch balled up in his hand._

_“That’s all I could find, pabbi,” He didn’t know why he lied. “I’m sorry.”_

_Íþróttaálfurinn was quiet, holding his hand over his mouth, while Sportacus spoke.  “I—” a sob choked his words, “—no, I’m going to find Anton, Sport. I’m going to bring your brother home.”_

_Sportacus wished he wouldn’t. He wished that his father, even in a moment of grief would accept his son as AWOL and assumed dead. It was too much for Sportacus to hope for, he knew, but still._

_Six days later, healed enough, Sportacus opted to work as a Sports Elf instead as a Peacekeeper. They were going to be Heroes together, he and Anton, but what’s not what Anton wanted. Sportacus said he was following in his father’s footsteps to be a Sports Elf instead of a Peacekeeper. Didn’t matter.  Heroes-in-training made up rumors and the whispers followed Sportacus down corridors. They said it was a shame that he was wasting his talent for combat._

_Sportacus made his choice just like Anton._

Twenty years, just about, and nothing changed as Íþróttaálfurinn and Sportacus walked through the halls. Whispers followed their footsteps, “Did you hear?” whispered a young woman to a younger man.

“About the Íþróttssons?”

“One’s a criminal among humans and the other,” she gestured towards Sportacus, “Is a failed Hero.”

That stung. The young man wore the rank of 20 and it made Sportacus a little self-conscious. He touched the rank 10 emblem on his chest. 10 was quite low for someone his age.

“The council wants to speak to you, Sport,” said Íþróttaálfurinn and pulled Sportacus along the right hand corridor. 

He shook out of Íþróttaálfurinn grasp, “No,” said Sportacus making a beeline for the center of Home Base and the prison section. “I want to talk to Anton, first.” Workers, Heroes, and Heroes-in-training hugged the walls as he walked past. He didn’t want to be infamous. Anton wanted to be infamous.

***

Pixel rocked on his heels while thinking of the best way to phrase his question, “Klara?” He cleared his throat as the Hero jumped off the tree branch and placed the spotted kitten on the ground.

“Hello Pixel,” she said with a smile and her fists on her waist. “Do you need something?”

There really wasn’t a tactful way of phrasing it, “Why can’t we say his name? What really happens?” He tapped on his wrist computer, “I scanned the kids and my computers detected a residue on them but I don’t have the substance cataloged.”

Klara’s smile faltered, “I don’t know who you’re talking about, Pixel, or what you mean about scanning the other kids.” Her eyes followed the kitten’s tail as it ambled off the sidewalk, “You know, you should ask people before you scan them.”

“I did,” said Pixel. “You came here with Sport—” Pixel frowned and clenched his fist almost forgetting himself “—‘s father. You said you wanted to talk to him and that was this morning. How could you forget so soon? How could anyone forget so soon?”

The kitten tried to swat at a passing butterfly and toppled over, “I’m not sure what you mean,” Klara seemed to welcome the distraction and righted the toppled kitten. “I’ve been here for a while.” Her brows furrowed, “Certainly longer than a few hours.” The crystal over her heart beeped, “Oh, someone’s in trouble. Got to go, Pixel.”

Pixel watched her leave and tapped on his wrist computer. Klara wouldn’t tell him much, and he was afraid to talk to the other kids about Sportacus. Over his head the airship shaded the sun for a moment.

He had a plan. It was illegal but he had one. He needed help.

***

Strawberry blonde hair spilled over her face while Tatiana slept off the alcohol on the made bed. Pink swirled in her mind and smelled like hookah smoke. A man grinned like the Cheshire cat and a bullet with a lipstick kiss. Lipstick kiss.

Ten years ago, maybe more maybe less, Tatiana worked with Viktor, a crime boss, with terrible breath and yellow nails. He would pull her onto his lap on more than one occasion, disgusting old man. One day a young upstart, Grigory, came to call Viktor one day. He was flanked by two men, a fat bald man with a goatee and a stout blond man. She was drawn to this third man. Viktor and Grigory talked shop, Grigory offered his services in return for a favor, she spoke to the third man.

“Tell me,” she said to him but he did not acknowledge her existence and stared forward, “What happened to you?” She ran her finger over the crooked scarred edge of his right ear.

A deep blush colored the man’s cheeks all the way up to his ears. He held a hand over his mouth, Tatiana hoped it was to suppress a soft moan. Light shined off the crystal in his wristwatch. He cleared his throat, lowered his hand, and said, “I would appreciate if you didn’t do that again.”

“Oh,” said Tatiana, “I’m sure you mean that. What’s your name?”

“Anton Poldark.”

Poldark wasn’t a Russian name, it stuck out in Tatiana’s mind, she wondered what other secrets he kept. “Tatiana,” she kissed him on the cheek but made sure that Viktor could see the mark the lipstick left. Mother always said to play the long game, let Grigory and Viktor kill themselves, she could make Anton better than both of them. “I wonder what other weak spots you have, Anton Poldark.”

Tatiana sat up in bed. Sweat beaded on her forehead and trickled down her temples. It felt like she had the flu: burning fever and shuddering chills. “Anton,” she breathed, “Holy shit.” The glamour broke like chains snapping across her body and she could breathe for the first time in days. She leaned over the side of the bed and vomited.

Magic and alcohol don’t mix well in human systems.

“Anton,” she murmured while she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “How could I ever forget?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading


	4. Retracing Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tatiana, spell broken, confronts Glanni. Together they go to Lazy Town to talk to Robbie. Plans are formed.

Underneath Lazy Town Robbie paced around his lair trying to figure out what was wrong. He worked for ages to rid Lazy Town of its green superhero but that in itself felt wrong. Kl-ame wore green but why did he have a blue hero costume? The blue costume had the number 10 on it but K-blame wore a number 29. He banged his head against the pneumatic tube.

“What…”

_Bang._

“Am I…”

_Bang._

“Missing?”

Robbie considered himself to be pretty stupid at times, he had issues with tangled numbers, but this seemed too much even for him. There was always a scheme for every disguise he made: sticker salesman: trick the kids into using their energy books against them; technician: cause chaos; Ms. Roberta: teach the kids bad manners; and the birthday fairy: cause chaos (again). What was the scheme behind this one? Competing to be the Lazy Town superhero? No, he had a costume for that. Telling her that he was the superhero there to replace her? No, too many loose ends.

_Bang._

Why did he have this costume?

_Bang._

There needed to be a reason. What was it?

_Bang._

If he had a superhero disguise this intricate he would’ve wanted to use it to replace Kl-shame and besmirch her reputation.  He couldn’t do that.

_Bang._

Because even the dumbest of children would see the difference between his over six foot frame (when he stood up straight) and her five foot even one. Why did he have this costume?

_Bang._

Wait, he slinked down to his knees on the metal grating, he did use it to besmirch the reputation of a hero. He did. It was that blue kangaroo, runs and jumps everywhere, and has a smile that could light up even Robbie’s darkest days. Sport—

Everything went dark.

Robbie woke up face first on the metal grating in front of his pneumatic tubes who knows how much later.  A knocking on the entrance silo of the lair pinged off the metal of the lair. His head ached and he couldn’t remember why exactly. That seemed to be happening a lot lately. He looked up at the Automatic Wardrobe, all the tubes were empty. He rolled his eyes and staggered up the ladder to the silo.

He struggled to open the hatch and when he did he was faced with the technology child, “Yeah?” Robbie blinked in the sunlight and rubbed the forming bruise on his forehead. “What do you want?”

“Hi Robbie,” said Pixel while he stood on the ladder of the silo. “Do you remember me?”

Robbie looped his arms around the ladder and interlaced his fingers. “Wish I didn’t, Poodle, what do—”

Pixel wrapped his arms around Robbie’s neck and Pixel spoke in one long breathe, “Oh my gosh, Robbie, we haven’t seen you for so long and I was afraid that something bad happened because everyone is forgetting everything and I don’t know why but I know it has something to do with Sporta—” Pixel almost forgot himself and pushed Robbie away but nearly lost his footing on the ladder.

Robbie acted fast and grabbed Pixel by the arm. “I don’t understand you kids,” he said as he pulled Pixel forward to right him on the ladder. “Honestly,” he picked Pixel up by the armpits and lowered him to the ground. “Now,” he wheezed doubled over edge of the silo. “What are you going on about?”

“I want to break into Klara’s airship.

Robbie slumped over the edge of the silo and blinked twice, “That’s illegal.”

“Are you a villain or not, Robbie?” Pixel asked with far more force than he intended. “I need your help. Will you help me?”

“Okay.”

***

Outside the nightclub that Anton frequented, and that they visited together six months ago, Tatiana passed the taxi driver a handful of bills before she slipped out of the backseat. She bribed the doorman, figured that after the brother walked through the kitchen with a bloody face that they would at least lock the backdoor now, and strode inside the club.

Glanni Glæpur stood at the bar talking to each group of guests, inviting them to try the new cocktail or the new dish, mostly just trying to make the guests of the club feel welcomed and to spend more money. Frequent guests or those with a keen eye noticed three major things that were off about Glanni Glæpur the last few months: most days he wore minimal makeup if he wore any at all (BB cream and mascara), his nail polish was chipped, and he wore flats.

If asked a year ago, Glanni would rather die than be caught in public to be witnessed as anything less than perfect. Good thing it wasn’t a year ago.

Glanni moved down the bar and Tatiana moved in behind him to order a shot of vodka. A new voice at the bar caught Glanni’s ear, “Ah,” he spun on his heel with a smile, “Dobriy vyecher.”

“Nostrovia,” said Tatiana with a toast of the glass to Glanni.

Glanni’s flinched when he noticed her but he regained his smile quickly, “A pleasure, darling, you’ll be quite a sight on the dance floor. Excuse me,” he said before moving away from the bar to speak to another group of people.

“Forget me so soon?” Tatiana grabbed his hand and pulled Glanni close, “Did you think I forgot? You said you wanted to get to know me sometime. Well, here I am.”

The color drained from Glanni’s face, “I’m afraid you’ve gotten me confused, darling,” he pulled his hand out of her grasp. “I’ll be more than happy to buy you another round, however.”

“Oh,” said Tatiana as she laid a hand on Glanni’s shoulder. “You’re not a man to forget easily, which is something I’m sure you tell your lovers.” Tatiana causally opened up her jacket for Glanni to see the holstered gun.  “I don’t care for people stealing from me, for one thing, but if you tell me where Anton Poldark is then we can just,” she patted him on the cheek. “Forget it ever happened.”

“Oh my God,” said Glanni as he grabbed Tatiana by the hand and pulled her away from the bar.  “I’m too young to be losing my touch like this,” he pulled Tatiana away through the dance floor, “Just. Oh my God,” he said again and lifted a bottle of liquor off the tray of a passing waitress. “I just,” he shook his head and gestured for the guard at the back of the club to open the door to the private room.

Tatiana and Glanni stood alone in the private room in the back of the nightclub. “You remember everything, I take it?” Glanni asked as he twisted off the lid of the bottle and took a long drink. He gasped for breath and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “How did that happen?”

“Like I said,” said Tatiana and pulled the bottle out of his hand and tossed it aside, “No one steals from me.”

Glass shattered and liquor spilled on the ground. Glanni blinked, “See,” he gestured at the broken glass and liquor dripping down the wall, “This is why you Anton and lasted so long. Fruitless dramatics.”

“You’re one to talk about dramatics, aren’t you?”

Glanni rubbed his eyes, “A mouth, too,” he said dryly. He grabbed her by the upper arm, “Come with me,” and pulled her along to the door. “If a mere human broke my glamour I—” he groaned and gripped Tatiana tighter “—I can’t believe this.” Pink mist exploded from the soles of his shoes as he walked, “Whatever you do,” he said to Tatiana struggling to pull herself free, “Don’t let go.” The mist snaked out from in front of him and crawled up the wall and blocked the door. “If we get separated than you might be lost forever, and I would hate for that to happen,” he rolled his eyes to emphasis his sarcasm.

The pink mist opened like a doorway and together they walked through it at a brisk pace. Tatiana looked over her shoulder to see the private room in the nightclub disappear and the world was clouded in a thick pink fog. “Where are we?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Music echoed through the fog mixing the chimes of bells and whispers. “No,” she struggled again but Glanni only jerked her close to his side so he could wrap his other arm around her waist. “Fuck you, it does matter.” Her chest felt tight, as if the spindly fingers made of pink fog crawled down her throat to fill her lungs. “I heard something.”

“That happens just keep walking. We’re almost there.”

***

Inside the lair underneath Lazy Town, Pixel stood on a box so he could look out Robbie’s periscope. “I bet Klara’s airship is automated just like Ten’s,” said Pixel. He tried for at least twenty minutes to try and help Robbie remember Sportacus without using his name but to no avail. “I bet if you still have your voice changer than it’ll be a piece of cake.”

Robbie stood with his back to Pixel with his arms crossed but his ears perked up, “Cake?” He tried to look push Pixel to the side to look out the periscope. “Where?”

“Focus Robbie,” said Pixel balanced precarious on the box but held tight to the periscope handles, “Do you still have the voice changer?”

“Somewhere,” Robbie leaned over the railing to look at his workbench from his position by the Automatic Wardrobe 3000. “I could whip up a replacement if I can’t find it in any case.” Hands on the railing he looked over to Pixel, “Do you even have a real plan, Poodle, what happens after you break into the airship?”

“I’m making it up as I go along,” said Pixel, not bothering to correct Robbie about his name. “Isn’t that what you do?”

Robbie rolled his shoulders back and puffed out his chest, “No,” he lied. “I am villain number one and all of my schemes are planned down to the last detail.

“Right,” said Pixel.

Six feet from the orange armchair a cloud of pink mist grew taller than six feet and wider than four. Robbie leaned over the railing, “Glanni?”

Indeed, Glanni appeared out of the mist along with a strawberry blonde woman Robbie didn’t recognize. “Hello Robin,” said Glanni, “How’s my blue egg of joy doing?” The woman collapsed to her hands and knees on the metal floor and gasped for breath.

Robbie blinked a few times, “What are you doing here?”

“I can’t visit my favorite nephew?” Glanni walked over to Robbie across the railing and stood beneath Robbie on the platform. “How are you, Robbie?” He pulled Robbie down by his waistcoat so he could place his hands on both sides of Robbie’s face, “How do you feel?” He pulled Robbie’s face down to look at the new bruise on his forehead, “Are you doing all right?”

Behind Robbie the Automatic Wardrobe 3000 whirred and disguises filled the empty tubes: his striped suit, his pajamas, the Birthday Fairy disguise, his baseball outfit, and the blue Hero costume. “Fine, I guess,” said Robbie. “Are you okay? You see a little…subdued.”

“I’m fine.” Glanni pushed Robbie’s head to the side to look at the disguises behind him, “Ah, Robbie-Robin, what was your inspiration behind that one disguise?” He left go of Robbie’s face and hurried up the stairs to stand in front of the pneumatic tube closest to the stairs that housed the Sportacus costume. “This one right here—” he rapped his knuckle against the glass “—this one right here. Do you remember?”

A few feet away on the metal floor of the lair Tatiana stood on shaky legs to survey Robbie’s lair. She made eye contact with Robbie behind Glanni’s back.

“No,” said Robbie afraid to break eye contact with Tatiana. “I was trying to remember what it was before I was interrupted. It was something to with Kblamea, I know that for sure, but…” Tatiana broke eye contact first and moved to his armchair. Desperate to change the subject, Robbie cleared his throat, “Friend of yours?”

Ignoring Robbie’s question Glanni asked Robbie, “How do you feel when you see this disguise?”

“Confused, I guess,” said Robbie. “What’s this about, frændi?

One hand gripped the back of the armchair for support, “I don’t know what the hell you did or where I am,” said Tatiana. She drew a gun from the holster underneath her jacket, “You will not be doing that again,” she took aim at Glanni. “Got it?”

Pixel froze on the box underneath the periscope, a little afraid to move, he looked from the gun to Glanni.

Also distracted by the gun was Robbie, instinctively he checked on Pixel out of the corner of his eye and noticed him trembling. “Hey,” he whispered and inched over to the periscope and Pixel, “I won’t let anything happen to you, okay?” He blocked Pixel from Tatiana’s sight, “You’re going to be fine.”

“Shame, that,” Glanni said as he stared down the barrel of the gun at Tatiana with a bored expression. “We’re 1,000 miles away from Russia in a small village that’s about fifty miles from any other town.” He hopped over the railing and took a step forward towards the gun, “But I suppose you have a plan, is that it?”

“I do.” Tatiana walked a few steps forward, “You tell me where Anton is, skank, and we all go home safe and sound.”

“You’re forgetting who has the power in this game, honey.” The gun barrel rested comfortable three inches from Glanni’s chest. “I thought you were the intelligence to Anton’s impulsiveness.”

“I work with what I have.”

Glanni raised an eyebrow, “Honey, you don’t have shit.” He shook his head, “Like two peas in a pod, I swear, you and Anton. Death himself could come calling and Anton Poldark would point a TT-30,” he pushed the barrel of Tatiana’s gun aside (away from Robbie and Pixel) with an outstretched finger. “Like a fool.”

They sound made for each other, Robbie said once to someone lying on the grass in front of the billboard. “Anton Poldark threatened me,” said Robbie. He spoke faster than he could think, “He threatened Sportacus.” It felt like chains broke across his chest and a fog lifted from his mind. “Blackmailed him into helping him and then,” He looked over to Glanni, “You came here.”

“Robin, I—”

“You cursed the town. You made them forget. I saw the mist surround Stephanie. You made them forget him, Glanni, you made me forget Sportacus.”

“Robbie—”

“It was raspberry pink, Glanni, I know it was you.”

Small arms wrapped around Robbie’s waist, the sudden contact startled Robbie enough to make him squeak. “I thought I was going crazy,” said Pixel with his forehead against Robbie’s back. “No one remembered and I thought I had to go fix it alone.” His voice quieted to a whisper, “I was afraid.”

Robbie thought quick and tried to think what Sportacus would say in this situation, “It’s okay,” he said and his nose twitched. “Everyone gets scared sometimes.” He gingerly patted Pixels arms wrapped around his waist. “There. There.” The wrist computer beeped when Robbie accidently touched it and he hoped he didn’t just launch a rocket into space or something equally outrageous. He looked up at Glanni, “Tell me what happened, Glanni, please.”

Glanni, “I did what I did to spare—”

“Yeah, I got that part,” said Robbie waving his hand in the air as if to brush away Glanni’s comment. “All you did is give me a headache and scare this kid behind me.” His eyes drifted past Glanni to Tatiana in the middle of the lair; she held the gun at her side and rubbed her temple. “And then some,” said Robbie.

“Robin—”

Again, Robbie cut him off, “Stop it. My name is Robbie, I’m adult, and I am so very tired of being threatened.” He nodded to Tatiana.

“Robbie,” said Glanni. “I’m sure Sportacus will be fine.” He rolled his eyes and made a vague hand gesture in the air and looked over to Tatiana. “Anton, on the other hand, will probably die.” He looked back at Robbie. “Elves are surprisingly blunt in their punishments.”

Pixel gripped the fabric of Robbie’s shirt, “Sportacus is going to die?”

“What, no,” said Glanni covering his face his hand, “Did you hear what I just said? He’ll probably be fine.”

Robbie attempted to comfort Pixel with a few pats on the arm, “He did. Elves are blunt in their punishments and Sportacus is going to be punished.” He stared his uncle in the eye, “You sent Sportacus to die, Glanni.”

“You,” breathed Tatiana, “Piece of shit. Anton trusted you.” She fired three shots aimed at Glanni’s heart.

Shells fell to the ground as did Robbie and Pixel.

“Honey, Anton didn’t trust me. He barely trusts you.” Glanni stared down the barrel of Tatiana’s gun unamused.

Five more shots were fired off from Tatiana’s gun and eight shells littered the ground at Tatiana’s feet. Robbie, shielding Pixel with his body, held his hands over Pixel’s ears to try and block out the reverberations of the shots in the metal plated lair.

“I hope you’re finished now,” said Glanni with a dry laugh. “Oh, surprise,” he held up a fully loaded PSM magazine, “Blanks. I swapped it out when you weren’t looking.” He winked and tossed the magazine up in the air only for it to disappear into pink mist when it hit his palm.

Robbie pulled Pixel up, “It’s okay, yeah? It’s over.” He brushed off the stray metal shavings off Pixel’s sleeve. Sportacus is better at comforting a ten year old quivering in his sneakers than him. Sportacus would tell him just the right thing before smiling so bright that it would dry any stray tears. “Come here,” he pulled Pixel into a tight hug, “That’s not going to happen again.” Pixel buried his face into the fabric of Robbie’s shirt. “I know it was scary and loud but it’s over now.” Pixel shook and gripped his fingers into Robbie’s waistcoat so Robbie rubbed small circles on Pixel’s back. “You know,” he looked over to Glanni, “You could’ve just disabled the gun. You didn’t have to scare the kid.”

Glanni shrugged, “My apologies. I thought it would be—”

“More fun this way,” said Robbie, “Right?”

“I suppose.” Distracted and his head turned towards Robbie on the platform near the periscope Glanni nearly didn’t notice Tatiana spin the gun in her hand, the butt facing outwards. “I forgot myself.”

She swung the gun at Glanni’s head.

Out of the corner of his eye Glanni saw her swing. Large raspberry pink butterfly wings unfurled and Glanni shot up into the air. “Oh, ho ho ho,” he hovered in the air about seven feet above their heads and the air shimmered as his wings flapped. “Clever and angry, aren’t you?”

“Aren’t you full of tricks?” Tatiana said dryly and, finally, she holstered her gun.

Above her head, Glanni pouted, “I wished you would be more impressed. This is so much more than most humans can deal with in a single hour.”

Tatiana shrugged, “I guess you aren’t really impressive.”

Pixel still had his face buried in the Robbie’s stomach and Robbie sighed, “Did you spare her feelings as well, Glanni? Or was this something you reserved for family?”

“I love you, Robbie, and I don’t know why I did what I did, okay? You’re mother gave me an earful about how reckless I am.” He perched on top of the pneumatic tube that housed the Sportacus costume.”

“Mamma knew?”

“Said she was going to come back and clean up my mess, but,” he stared down at Tatiana who stared up at him. “She was too late and it got worse.”

Pixel looked up and gasped when he saw Glanni. “Oh, wow,” he said ducked his head under Robbie’s arm. Robbie could actually feel the swell of questions welling up in the child’s chest.

Glanni smiled—glad someone here was impressed with the beauty of his wings—and fluttered them so shimmers of dust fell down on the glass of the pneumatic tubes. He laughed, “I admit it. I was wrong about a lot of things. Your mother says I don’t understand women very well and always told me to never underestimate humans.” He kicked his heels against the glass of the tube. “I guess it was time that I wildly underestimated a human female.”

“What are you going to do, Glanni? You going to wipe her memory again? Mine? What about his,” he gestured to Pixel who then looked up at Robbie. “What happens now, Glanni?”

“Yeah, Glæpur,” Tatiana laughed and pulled a spare magazine out of the back of her jeans. “Did you plan for this, too?” She slipped a bullet out of it and examined it. “I guess you’re not as clever as I am, huh?”

Pixel buried his face again in Robbie’s shirt. Robbie turned so his back faced Tatiana and Pixel was protected.

“I dare you to try and do anything to me again, degenerate,” finished Tatiana.

Glanni kicked his heels against the glass of the tube and ignored Tatiana’s threat while she fitted the bullet back into the magazine. “There are two options the way I see it,” said Glanni. “We all go our separate ways, forget this ever happened, and move on from the beautiful blond blue eyed elf that we each claimed and can never see again…” Glanni trailed off.

“What’s the second option, Glanni,” said Robbie. “You said there were two options.”

Glanni was lost in thought and didn’t respond to Robbie’s question immediately. Tatiana pulled the gun and the spent magazine slid out of the gun to slam onto the metal ground of the lair.

“No, no, no,” said Robbie and snapped his fingers. Purple mist trailed through Tatiana’s fingers and dissolved the gun, magazine, and empty magazine by her feet into mist. “I told him you weren’t going to do it again and I won’t be made into a liar, got it?”

The mist made Tatiana sneeze, a small kitten sneeze, “I’m so fucking sick of obnoxious colored fog that surrounds you fuckers.” She said with a wave of her hand in front of her face to clear the mist.

“Language!” Robbie shouted.

“I,” Tatiana walked briskly up the stairs of the platform, her heels on the metal grating echoed off the metal walls of the lair, “Will kill you with my bare hands.”

Large—but slightly smaller than Glanni’s own—deep purple butterfly wings unfurled on Robbie’s back. He shot up in the air with Pixel in his arms when Tatiana came within three feet of him and Pixel on the platform.

Tatiana looked up at all three of them on the pneumatic tubes. Glanni sat on the Sportacus costume while Robbie and Pixel stood on the pajamas and Robbie’s normal attire, respectively. “Don’t test me, Glæpurs.” She paced along the platform, “Magic or not. I don’t fuck around.”

Pixel looked up at Robbie and, in a quiet voice, “Language?”

Pale and embarrassed that Pixel saw his wings Robbie nodded. “Yeah,” he said, “Language. Just don’t repeat what she said. You know better.”

Glanni’s wings fluttered and sent pink shimmers raining down on the glass. “Fúna also said I underestimated you, Robbie,” Glanni stood on the pneumatic tube. “I apologize for that, honestly. Now, there is a second option, yeah, but it’s dangerous and stupid.”

“Finally,” said Tatiana with a clap of her hands that made Pixel and Robbie jump. “I’m dangerous and he’s—she tilted her head towards Robbie—“stupid.”

Glanni lowered himself to the platform in front of the Automatic Wardrobe 3000. “Aren’t we all,” he sighed. “Send the child home, Robbie, we three need to talk.”

“I resent that comment, I’ll have you know,” said Robbie as he picked up Pixel under the arms to carry him over Tatiana’s head over to the ladder to the entrance silo. “I’m not stupid.”

“I know, honey, but love makes you do stupid things.” Glanni cracked his knuckles. “For instance, I’m going to help you two get the Íþróttsson twins back home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.  
> Sport, Anton, and Ithro are up next.


	5. Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sportacus is summoned before The Council, Anton is tried, and Glanni is so tired of Tatiana that he cannot believe he's helping her.

Home Base, the hovering command central of The Order of One Hundred, flew over the Great North Sea and moved northeast. Inside the sleek white corridors walked Íþróttaálfurinn and Sportacus. The latter elf was anxious to speak to his brother in the prison section.

“No,” said Íþróttaálfurinn pulling Sportacus away down different corridor away from the corridor that led to the prison section. “You need to speak to the council as soon as possible,” Íþróttaálfurinn guided Sportacus around a group of six young adults in the training uniforms.

Sportacus rolled his eyes and pulled out of Íþróttaálfurinn’s grasp. “Why? I’m sure they know what they need, or want, to know.” They stopped at a tall set of gilded double doors guarded by two human men. “What else can I tell them?”

Íþróttaálfurinn  leaned into Sportacus’s ear so the guards couldn’t hear. “You could tell them the truth, son.” They stared at each other.

Sportacus looked away first, “How long have you known?”

“I figured it out just after you left Home Base,” Íþróttaálfurinn continued to look at Sportacus. “You could’ve told me, Sport.”

Sportacus shook his head.

Neither guard moved but the tall doors glided opened inwards and a small Elven woman approached Sportacus and his father, “Where is it?” Íþróttaálfurinn, without a word, handed the watch box over to her. A delicate eyebrow lifted when she opened the box. “Take care of this for me,” she read the note tucked into the lid and looked at Sportacus. A beat of silence passed, “You’re dismissed,” she told Íþróttaálfurinn.

Íþróttaálfurinn’s mouth became a thin line.

“Follow me,” she told Sportacus before she turned on her heel and walked through the doors.

Sportacus opened his mouth to speak but Íþróttaálfurinn shook his head. He remained stationary but a firm hand by Íþróttaálfurinn pushed him forward to follow the elf woman through the tall doors.

Silently the doors swung shut behind him and the light from the main section of Home Base waned. Soon, Sportacus and the elf woman were in dim hallway lit by lamps along the walls as they walked down the hallway to the Council Chamber.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Sportacus,” said the elf woman. “Top in your classes but opted out of the Peace Keepers to become a Spots Elf.”

“I felt it was important to help children make healthy decisions.”

“Hmm,” she looked over her shoulder at him. “What a waste of potential.”

Sportacus rolled his eyes when she turned her back to him and resisted the urge to use an obscene human gesture behind her back.

They reached another set of tall gilded doors guarded by a pair of elf men in regal armor, a pair of soldiers from the Council Guard: A powerful fighting force whose only mission is to protect the Council and the crystals. The elf woman turned to face Sportacus, “Wait here until you’re called.” The doors cracked open behind her spilling blue light into the hallway. Again, she spun on her heel and walked through the tall gilded doors.

Alone with the two Guardsmen Sportacus rocked on his heels, “You just stare at an empty hallway all day, huh?” Neither Guardsmen answered Sportacus or even acknowledged his existence. They continued to stare forward. “Sure sounds boring,” continued Sportacus. A tight knot of anxiety twisted in the pit of his stomach. “I would much rather play a game of soccer or, you know, anything.”

Several minutes later the doors parted open again and the elf woman motioned Sportacus forward. The Council Chamber was dark and all Sportacus could see in the dim light was the dais. The Council of Ten stood evenly around it and watched Sportacus come forward as the doors swung shut behind him.

An elderly elf woman, her long pointed ears stretching out past her intricately braided bun, pointed the tip of her scepter at the center of Sportacus’s chest. “Sportacus Íþróttsson? Rank 10?” His crystal flashed a rainbow of color in sync with large crystal in the scepter.

Sportacus bowed, “Yes, Madam One Hundred.”

One Hundred’s scepter tapped on the ground twice, “Come closer, my child,” she said and swept her arm across towards the dais. The long sleeves of her robes fluttered with every movement and the light of the scepter lit up the 100 emblem on a large gold link chain around her neck.

Sportacus did as requested and stood in the center of the dais. He clutched his hands into fists at his sides to try and funnel some of that nervous energy buzzing through his body.

“Graduated top of your classes in both hand-to-hand combat and knife skills,” recited Number One Hundred. “Ranked 10 upon graduated,” she tapped her scepter to the emblem on his chest. “If you stayed the route of the Peace Keepers you could’ve been ranked 30 within two years. Frankly, Sportacus, with your potential you could’ve ranked 80 within the twenty years you’ve been gone from Home Base. However, after your first mission as a Hero with others from your class, you chose to be become a Sports Elf. Do I have that information correct?”

Sportacus cleared his throat, “Yes, Madam.”

“Yes,” she gestured with the scepter to the other council members. “We need to know what exactly happened on that mission that took three young lives from us.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Sportacus. “Madam,” he added quickly.

An elf man wearing intricate robes and an emblem bearing Number 99 spoke, “Two Heroes, ranked 2 and 4, were found dead along with the human diplomat you were entrusted to extract. Antoninus, Rank 6, was nowhere to be found for the last twenty years. You, on the other hand...”

“I barely escaped, Sir, I could only find the Number 6 patch before I recovered the other two crystals.”

“Yes,” said One Hundred. “We were told that you and your brother, Antoninus, were inseparable. We held our suspicions then but they were renewed with fervor after the incident in Russia.”

Sportacus set his jaw to keep from uttering the phrase, ‘is that what we’re calling it?’

“Tell us what happened, Number 10,” said Number Ninety-Seven, a human woman. “Because it seems that you’re avoiding the question.

“We divided up into teams, 2 and 4 go high; 6 and I go low.” Sportacus paused, “Both teams were ambushed. 6 and I were separated. I tried to locate the diplomat but I was too late.”

 Translucent green dragon fly wings belonging to Number Ninety-Two shimmered in the low light of the Council Chamber. “Ah, yes,” she said, “You were too late to save anyone but you were able to retrieve Number 2 and Number 4’s crystals, is that correct?”

Sportacus turned his eyes away from the spot on the wall he stared a hole into to look at Number Ninety-Two, “Yes. Ma’am.”

“You’re lying,” said Number One Hundred. “We know you are, Sportacus—” she tapped the top of her scepter to Sportacus emblem “—The crystals can remember strong emotions and even memories of the Hero that bears it.” She tapped the scepter on the ground. “You lied then and you’re lying now.”

Sportacus gaped, “Madam, I—”

“No,” she said to cut him off and stepped forward and held an open palm to his emblem. “You knew that Antoninus deserted his post and you ran. You ran away from Home Base, refused to humor any and all summons in the years since, and conspired with a known criminal.” She tapped Sportacus’s emblem open and held her palm over the crystal. “However, you’ve done good work as a Sports Elf so consider this a mercy, Sportacus.” She pulled the crystal out of the emblem, “From this day forward you are no longer a Numbered Hero nor a part of The Order of 100. Finally, you are no longer welcome at Home Base.”

Sportacus didn’t move. He couldn’t think, “My father?”

“Íþróttaálfurinn negotiated for leniency so he could work with The Order to bring Antoninus back to Home Base,” said Number Ninety-Two. “We no longer have any need for his services.”

Sportacus patted at his chest and absentmindedly closed the empty Number 10 emblem. “What about him? What will happen to Antoninus?” A long beat passed, “Madam One Hundred, ma’am.”

One Hundred stepped off the dais and held Sportacus’s crystal close to her heart. “He will face execution for the crimes he has committed, of course. Blood for blood, Sportacus, and his will spill for Number 2 and Number 4.” She tapped the ground twice with her scepter and the crystal flashed a rainbow of color. “We, The Council, thank you Sportacus for your services to The Order. You are dismissed.”

Sportacus didn’t move. “I don’t know what to say, Madam.”

The gilded doors slid open and the Guardsmen entered the chambers. Sportacus became suddenly aware of how many weapons were on their person and those were the ones he could see in sheaths. The Guardsmen approached the dais.

Sportacus put up his hands, “Thank you, Madam One Hundred.” He bowed, “Thank you, Council of Ten.” He stepped off the dais and walked between the Guardsmen through the open doors. The Guardsmen followed behind him through the doors and followed him through the long hallway three steps behind.

Íþróttaálfurinn met Sportacus outside the main set of doors, “I take it didn’t go well,” he said noticing Sportacus’s expression and the shine of Guardsmen armor as the doors swung shut. He placed a hand on Sportacus’s shoulder, “It’ll be fine. I promise.”

“I doubt it,” said Sportacus brushing away his father’s hand “They got what they wanted and that leaves us both in purgatory. Doesn’t it?” He looked around the concourse, it’s sleek white interior and inset lights, “I spent ten years on this floating platter and what do I have to show for it?” He tapped the emblem open to show the empty compartment to Íþróttaálfurinn. “Nothing. Not a damn thing.” A Peacekeeper in her green uniform walked past Sportacus and giggled into her hand. Sportacus rolled his eyes, closed the emblem, and walked towards the prison section.

 “He won’t be there, Sport,” said Íþróttaálfurinn and his words stopped Sportacus in his tracks. “The Council is going to speak to him next and we can sit in the theater with the others.”

“Goddess,” Sportacus dug the heel of his hand into his eye. “They’re going to make an example of him, aren’t they? So no one else gets any ideas in the future.”

Íþróttaálfurinn stared at the ground, “I don’t know,” he seemed unsure as he placed a hand on Sportacus’s shoulder to lead him to the theater above the Council Chamber. “I have to trust that they will have mercy on him.”

“Mercy,” Sportacus snorted. “Please. I don’t know if you’re delusional or in denial, old man. You knew he was alive but did you realize he deserted his post? Blood for blood.” He spun and looked at Íþróttaálfurinn, “How do you feel knowing you delivered your oldest child to his executioner?”

***

Promises were made several times over while Robbie escorted Pixel out of the lair. First Pixel made Robbie swear that no, nothing is going bad is going to happen. Yes, he’ll be okay. No, she’s not going to hurt anyone. Yes, he’s my uncle and, no, he’s not going to hurt anyone either.

Robbie then made Pixel swear on his computer: no, I won’t say anything about your wings. I won’t say what your uncle did. No, I won’t mention his wings either. I definitely won’t mention the magic. They made a deal that if Pixel stayed quiet that he could collect dust samples from Robbie’s wings for analysis.

However, when they stood beside the entrance silo in the warm breeze Pixel seemed hesitant.

Robbie’s nose twitched and he fumbled with a button on his waistcoat. “I’ll bring Sportacus back home, okay?” Pixel seemed unconvinced to the point Robbie debated walking him home. “You can play that video game you were bragging about with the other kids.”

“Why can’t I help you? Stephanie and Trixie helped Sportacus when his evi—ah.” Pixel felt like the phrase evil twin was a little too on the nose. “Brother came to town. I want to help you, too.”

Strands of pink mist pooled out from the palms of Robbie’s hands and they crept along the ground towards Pixel’s sneakers. Robbie, aware of their presence, watched the tendrils snake around bolts and in the seams of the metal plates. He stomped his foot down and deep purple mist pooled out from the sole of his shoe. Wide tendrils of mist reared up like king cobras and attacked the strands of raspberry pink mist on sight.

Robbie rolled his eyes and Pixel stared at the ground, unable to see the disintegrating pool of fuchsia mist that Robbie looked at so intently. “Listen,” he guided Pixel to the hidden door of the billboard, “They stowed away on a plane and put their lives in danger. He didn’t want their help.”

 “But—”

“No buts.” Robbie held up his hands. “You can help me by going home, okay? Sportacus wants you to go home.” Robbie looked at the silo before he shut the billboard door behind him. “These are dangerous people, kid. I know what you’re thinking: Trixie would stand up to me. Stephanie would fight for her friends. I know. I get it. But,” he sighed, “You need to trust that I’ll bring Sportacus home. Okay?”

Pixel looked down at the ground and kicked a loose rock that pinged against the metal frame of the billboard. “Do you promise?”

Tired of making promises but Robbie found the energy to make one more, “Yes, I promise. I’ll bring Sportacus home but—” he held up a finger in Pixel’s face “—only if you go back to your’s.”

“Fine.” Pixel stared at the ground.

Something rolled and flopped in Robbie’s chest, “Listen. When we get back I could use some help with Sugarpie, I love my little doggy dude but he seems to like chewing my slippers more than bringing them,” he said in a blasé tone. Sportacus was rubbing off on him and, honestly, he didn’t know if he hated it or not. The doubt made his nose twitch and itch. “I can talk to Glanni for a sample of dust from his wings. You can compare the two and that could be your compensation for Sugar Pie. Fair enough?”

Pixel looked up to Robbie and nodded. “That’s sound fair,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, it does,” Robbie snapped his fingers and several rolls of blueprints fell into his open arms. “Look these over and we’ll talk shop before you know it.” Robbie held out the blueprints for Pixel but he just stared wide eyed up at Robbie. “What?” Robbie’s nose twitched with nervous self-conscious energy.

“That’s so cool, Robbie, wow!”

Robbie bit his lip and blushed, “It’s nothing.” He passed the blueprints into Pixel’s arms. “Now, go home, play some video games, and eat some candy.”

Another nod and, without a word, Pixel juggled the blueprints around and wrapped his arms around Robbie’s middle and squeezed so tightly that Robbie nearly lost his breath.

Robbie patted Pixel on the back before Pixel pulled away and ran back to his house. Robbie sighed and stared up at the sky. A familiar sight greeted him, the airship, but it wasn’t so familiar, was it?

Speaking of unfamiliar things, Pixel ran past Klara as she jogged around the town and made her stop in her tracks to keep from slamming into the pre-teen. Robbie saw Klara give a wave and greeting but Pixel just slammed the door in her face in response.

Robbie, hands on his hips, stared at Pixel’s house for a minute to makes sure he stayed in the house. Then, he made eye contact with Klara. They looked at each other. Klara looked at Pixel’s house and then at Robbie. He took a step back.

Wrong move.

Klara ran full sprint towards him, faster than Robbie could react, and stood on top of the low wall in a mere moment. “Hi, Robbie!”

Robbie held his hand over his chest, too startled by the small gremlin of a Hero, “Klamea.”

“I just saw Pixel run home,” she placed her fists on her waist, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing that concerns you.” Robbie adjusted his waistcoat as he stood tall with his shoulders back. He noted that with her standing on the wall she just barely stood at eye level with him. “Good day.” He turned his back on her and walked back through the hidden door of the billboard.

“Aw,” she hopped off the wall and followed Robbie. “Don’t be like that, I just want to know what’s going on.”

The entrance hatch stood open and as they approached the sounds of bickering could be heard echoing up the silo. Robbie couldn’t comprehend the Russian but he knew from the tone that it was both petty and threatening. Klara, beside him, confirmed his theory.

“What are Creel and Glæpur doing here, Robbie?” She held an arm in front of Robbie’s body, momentarily stopping him. “What are you planning?”

“Something dangerous and stupid?” Robbie shrugged, he didn’t know what he was getting himself into, he knew, he just wanted to have Sportacus back. He pushed away Klara’s arm and climbed the ladder. “Look after Lazy Town. It’s what you’re here for, Klara.”

 Robbie shut the hatch, locked it, and climbed back down the ladder back into the lair to find Tatiana with a knife in her hand and pointed it at Glanni’s throat. The Candy Faker Maker 3000 out on the work bench, and a candy apple in Glanni’s hand. He stared at the knife point with a bored expression while taking a bite out of the sugar apple. Caramel dribbled down his chin. Klara banged on the hatch and that’s what distracted Tatiana from her threats.

“Ignore her,” said Robbie.

Tatiana took one long stride towards him and Robbie shot up into the air. “I meant Klara, up there, okay? Not you. Klara.” He stood on an I-beam and dust, mixed with purple shimmers from his wings, fluttered to the ground. “I didn’t say to ignore you.”

“Indeed,” Glanni took another bite of sugar apple and spoke with his mouth full. “How could anyone ignore you, darling.”

She stepped back towards Glanni and raised an eyebrow, “Something else you tell your lovers?”

“No need to speak the obvious.”

Robbie walked along the I-beam and his wings fluttered to keep his balance. “Anyway,” he tried to change the subject. “What’s the plan.”

“We’re going to go to Home Base, find the twins, and make the rest up as we go along.” Glanni held the sugar apple in his teeth while shoved more candy into the Candy Maker Faker 3000 and cranked the handle three times.

Fresh sugar apple in hand he tossed it up to Robbie in the rafters. Robbie fumbled the apple, nearly falling himself, but managed to keep his balance and the apple. “Eat up, Robin, you’re going to need your strength.”

“Sounds simple enough,” said Tatiana.

Glanni laughed and sent a spittle of sugar and caramel into the air. “Hardly, if anything goes wrong it’ll be a suicide mission.” Another bite and he chewed thoughtfully. “Hell, if everything goes right it may still be a suicide mission.”

“Suicide?” Robbie paled.

“It’ll be mine, probably.”

“Perfect,” said Tatiana. They looked at her and she shrugged. “Better you than me.”

Glanni finished off his sugar apple, “You two are so alike it worries me.” He wiped his chin with the back of his hand before he poured three cups of sugar into the Candy Faker Maker 3000. “I’m sorry Robbie, about this. I led Íþróttaálfurinn on for years in a wild goose chase when he came to me to find his eldest son. Convinced he was alive and kidnapped by enemies of The Order.” He took a large bit of apple, “I thought we wouldn’t speak to me again after the little stabbing episode in bed.”

Both Tatiana and Robbie shuddered, “Christ,” said Tatiana. “Do I even want to know?”

Glanni took no notice. “I couldn’t bear to be separated from him again but word reached Íþróttaálfurinn about my little game in Russia. He wasn’t too pleased.”

Robbie paced along the I-beam. “I wasn’t either, by the way.” He finished off his sugar apple and dusted off his hands. “What does this have to do with anything?”

“Agreed.” Tatiana fidgeted with the butterfly knife in her hand, “Will you get on with it. I don’t fucking care about your disgusting life story.”

Glanni gestured with the apple at Robbie, “I know Anton. I know he threatened Sportacus into helping him because he is a man incapable of just saying the word ‘please.’ What I can gather about Sportacus is that he believes he’s better than Anton, at least morally, but still wants to help people; even if that person is his criminal brother. Lastly, I know twins, Robin. Sportacus might do something stupid.” A drop of caramel dribbled down his chin and landed on his partially exposed chest. “It won’t simple is my point.”

 Both of them watched Glanni and he finished his sugar apple and licked his fingers, “Time to suit up.”

Two snaps of his fingers and the pink mist swirled around Glanni. A moment later the mist cleared to reveal Glanni’s transformation: Minimal makeup was replaced with a fully done face complete with contouring and eyeliner wings sharp enough to kill a man. Plain casual clothes were replaced with a cat suit unzipped partway down his chest. A studded leather choker adorned his neck with a sizeable O-ring to matched a pair of leather slouched studded heeled boots with studded toes. A switchblade studded with rhinestone was tucked into the right boot. Raspberry pink butterfly wings fluttered behind him before Glanni tucked them beneath a raspberry pink coat with a fur trim.

“Subtle,” said Taitana.

“I will leave you somewhere unsavory,” Glanni said with a stomp of his foot. “Honestly, it must take a miracle for Anton to satisfy that cold lifeless husk you call a body.” A pool of raspberry pink mist spilled out from the sole of his boot and flooded the floor of the lair before rushing to the far wall.

Tatiana closed the butterfly knife and tucked it into her back pocket. “Annoyed, are we?”

“You never told me why you want Anton back so badly, Tatiana, why should we risk our lives for your little whiny boy toy?” Glanni stood with his back to the newly formed portal against the far wall of the lair.

“You just said it,” she said with a smirk. “He’s my little whiny boy toy and I’m not done with him yet.” Glanni shook his head and Tatiana craned her neck back to look at Robbie on the rafter. “Can I have my gun back now?” A minute long pause of silence followed before she added, “Please.”

Robbie fluttered to the ground and tucked his wings back, “I don’t know about this, Glanni. Why are we risking death? Is there another way?” Beside him Tatiana snapped her fingers but neither paid attention to her.

“We’re risking death because the Íþróttsson twins are risking death,” Glanni said while he walked towards the portal. “Fúna always said I’m reckless so might as well prove her right.” He fiddled with the fur trim on the jacket, thought about it, and tossed it aside in a puff of pink mist. Raspberry pink wings unfurled and fluttered. “Lose the waistcoat, Robbie, you shouldn’t waste the energy.”

Robbie took a moment to unbutton his waistcoat and tossed it aside. Deep purple wings fluttered behind his back and Glanni nodded his approval. A persistent tapping of Tatiana’s foot brought Robbie back to the scene, “Oh,” he said and snapped his fingers to drop Tatiana’s gun into her hand. A split second later the magazines dropped. She managed to grab the loaded one while the empty fell to the floor.

“That’s encouraging,” said Glanni as Tatiana kicked aside the spent magazine. “Come along, kids,” he stepped partially into the portal. “Time to go be reckless. Stay close, especially you Tatiana, or you may find yourself somewhere else.”

***

Metal walls, a metal floor, and a plastic cell door surrounded Anton every day and night for the past week. He sat on the thin cot on the metal shelf that jutted out from the wall and his back rested against the cold metal wall. Human prisons at least allowed prisoners the pleasure of seeing the sun. Go outside to stretch their legs and get fresh air. Not here, no, not among The Order. He tapped his head on the metal wall and listened to the sound it made. Human prisons also gave prisoners something to do to fill their time.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

He felt a bruise deepen on the back of his head but he didn’t care because the pain distracted him from his own thoughts. He didn’t have this problem in a human prison. They were overcrowded and the chatter of the other prisoners filled his head. Overcrowding wasn’t a problem here, no, neither was shoddy construction. The walls were thick and prisoners were far apart.

Silence except for his own thoughts.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap._

“Antoninus,” said a man walking down the hallway, “Hands.”

The guard wanted Anton to hold his hands through the small opening in the plastic cell door to be able to cuff him. However, Anton didn’t move from his position on the bed. He just stopped tapping his head on the wall.

“I will not repeat myself, Antoninus,” said the male elf guard stopping in front of the cell door with a man holding a pair of handcuffs.

Anton stared at the man holding the handcuffs for a long moment, “You look familiar,” he said in Russian. The man’s eyes shifted to the side before looking back through the cell door at Anton. It was all the proof he needed. Anton stood up and walked slowly to the door. “How long,” he continued, “Were you feeding information to them?” He slapped an open palm on the cell door, “Tell me!”

The elf guard slapped a palm on the panel beside Anton’s cell and sent a pulse of electricity through Anton’s cell and through Anton’s entire body rendering him incapacitated on the metal floor.

“I told you I wouldn’t repeat myself,” said the elf guard removing his hand from the panel. He tapped a few buttons and held his palm to the panel and a moment later the plastic cell door slid open. “Secure him,” the elf said to the man. The man nodded before he walked through the open cell door to roughly bind Anton’s hands.

“Tell me,” said Anton weakly, “How long?”

Anton thought the man was one of his henchmen. Maybe he was Anton’s driver for a few months during the visit to Glanni’s nightclub with Sportacus. He was a double agent that fed information to The Order about Anton’s whereabouts for months before Íþróttaálfurinn confronted him.

The man pulled Anton to his feet by the chain of the shackles, “You’ve got me confused with someone else, I’m afraid. I don’t speak Russian,” said the man in a thick American southern accent.

Anton wanted—needed—someone to blame for his downfall other than himself. He didn’t find it here.

“The council awaits, Antoninus,” said the elf guard holding one of Anton’s arms while the man held the other. They pushed him forward at a steady clip even while Anton swayed on his feet.

The guards led Anton through a side door into the Council Chambers. Lit now, so the dais stood in bright contrast to the raised curved bench across from it. Also lit was the theater through the glass dome above the dais. Uniformed Heroes gathered along with workers and trainees to watch the proceedings of Antoninus: the infamous missing Hero.

Elf guard motioned for the human guard, chains rattled against the dais and Anton’s hands were bound in heavy link chain. Freed from the handcuffs, the human guard hit a switch and the chains along with Anton’s arms were pulled taunt. The man patted Anton on the shoulder before he walked off the dais.

Anton was not comforted.

The bench that stood across from the dais rose at least three feet above Anton’s head but one section, three seats raised in a staircase formation, towered another four feet above the rest of the bench. He craned his neck back and looked up through the domed glass ceiling at those gathered to watch his trial.

Among the black training uniforms and green Peace Keepers uniforms in the audience was a splash of gold. Íþróttaálfurinn stared down at him and Anton expected the old man to be teary eyed but Íþróttaálfurinn’s face was like stone. Also among the green and black was a splash of blue, Sports Elves, and one sat next to Íþróttaálfurinn. Sportacus stared straight at the dais but not actually at Anton. His face was blank.

The council filed into the Chamber and sat in their respective seats on the bench. The audience above Anton stood and bowed as a single unit. For the most part, Sportacus’s actions were a little delayed, Anton noticed. Madam One Hundred sat at the peak of the bench and stared down at Anton.

“Antoninus Íþróttsson, you have been accused of the following: high treason against The Order, grand larceny, indifferent-homicide, and desertion. Shall we go in depth?” It was rhetorical. “You have sullied the good name of The Order. Conspired to have your fellow Heroes killed for your own gain.  Abandoned your post as a Numbered Hero. However, your most grievous crime was taking the gift of the crystal The Order allowed you possess and all but destroyed it. That alone will cost your head, Íþróttsson. Do you understand?”

“Don’t I get a lawyer?” said Anton with a delirious smile while he strained against the chains. “Someone to argue on my behalf? Innocent until proven guilty and all that?” He looked up into the theater to see his brother and father. He wondered where his mothers were? Did they know this was happening? He never thought to wonder if non-Heroes or anyone not associated with The Order was allowed on Home Base. Sportacus stills stared through Anton and Íþróttaálfurinn looked away. Anton knew there would be no desperate pleas from his father or brother.

“That is a human concept, Anton,” said Madam One Hundred, “And you’ve used it against them to weasel your way around their criminal justice systems for the last time.” She tented her fingers in front of her face. “I repeat the question: do you understand why you are being charged?”

“Yes,” said Anton.

“Good,” said Madam. “We have also heard tell that you’ve been making a nuisance of yourself among the humans. Many of your crimes against The Order you also committed against them: murder, threats, assault, and grand larceny. The list goes on and on, Antoninus Íþróttsson. Do you understand that your execution is inevitable?”

He stared straight ahead at the wood of the bench. “I do,” said Anton.

Madam One Hundred stood and waved her scepter at the gathered audience. “All of you present listen closely,” she addressed the audience above behind the domed glass ceiling. “The honor of becoming a Numbered Hero is not one to be taken lightly nor should the honor of receiving one of the crystals.” She produced Anton’s crystal, freed from the watch, wafer thin with a hole drilled in the center. “These crystals were a great gift from the Goddess and for someone, let alone a Numbered Hero who was bestowed the responsibility, and those who destroy the Goddesses gift will be destroyed.” She slammed the end of her scepter on the ground and the sound echoed through the Council Chamber. “Antoninus Íþróttsson will be dead before the rise of the full moon. May the Goddess have mercy on his soul.”

It was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Tried.  
> There were nice comments and I just can't comprehend them, so thanks.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading.


	6. Flight and Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glanni talked about doing something dangerous and stupid but was surprised when Sportacus was the one who did the thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: blood and death incoming

A few stray clouds hung over Lazy Town while Pixel loaded up his wrist computer with a few choice clips filmed around town. Ever since Sportacus arrived in town he, and all the other children, became resistant to Robbie’s advice. Sugarpie’s blueprints were shoved in the corner and Pixel headed out of his house to find Ziggy.

“Hi Pixel,” said Ziggy from his spot in front of the closed ice cream stand, “Do you know when Mr. Rottenburg is going to come open the stand? I could really, really, go for a triple scoop of choco-chuck right now.” He gesticulated with the arms of the bear to emphasis his excitement.

Pixel stared at the bear, “What’s your bear’s name, Ziggy?”

“Teddicus, why?”

Pixel rocked on his heels, “How did you come up with that name?”

“I don’t know. Thought it fit based on the costume he’s wearing.” He shoved the bear close to Pixel’s face to show off the little blue vest and the blue cap that had holes to allow Teddicus’s ears to poke through just above the stitched goggles on the brim.

“Why does he have that costume?”

Ziggy, being just a little kid, quickly became frustrated with Pixel’s questions stamped his foot on the ground. “I don’t know,” he huffed, “My mommy made it for him. Said that it would make him look like a real superhero.” Ziggy pulled the bear back from Pixel and looked into the bear’s face. “Wait…”

The puzzle pieces were falling into place and Pixel knew a few would fall sideways any moment. “Sit down here,” he led Ziggy to a bench, “I know where your mom got the inspiration for Teddicus’s outfit.”

***

A raspberry pink wisp clung to the intersection of glass and metal above The Council Chambers. Through the eye of the wisp Glanni watched and fluttered anxiously. Beside him fluttered Robbie who carried Tatiana, weakened by the excessive exposure to the otherworldly method of transportation, in his arms. “We may be lucky,” said Glanni softly. “Anton is set to die, yeah, but Sportacus and Íþróttaálfurinn are safe. We can nab them, get you three to back home in a jiffy, and I can comfort Íþró.”

Tatiana, her face buried in Robbie’s neck, moaned, “I can hear you, fucker.”

“Shame,” said Glanni but the sweat beading on his brow betrayed his blasé tone. “Anton is set to be executed, Tatiana, and I’m not sure what I can really do to stop it.”

She struggled in Robbie’s arms, “I don’t know why I bothered,” said Tatiana. “Can’t do a damn thing, can you?”

The wisp crawled along the metal skeleton of the dome, hidden from the audience, but was able to watch the voyeurs. “Just a moment and its over,” said Glanni while he shook out his hands, “Íþróttaálfurinn will not watch his son die.” Unbeknownst to him the tail of his raspberry pink wisp faded into a bright pink. “They aren’t Heroes anymore, Robbie, The Order won’t care about them.”

Absentmindedly Sportacus kept tapping the empty emblem on his chest while Íþróttaálfurinn sat beside him with his elbows on his knees. Other members of the audience above the Council Chamber murmured among themselves. A group of young trainees, six total, sat across the dome from Sportacus and Íþróttaálfurinn and they kept pointing at Sportacus. He could feel an angry heat coil and twine in his stomach.

Beneath the dome two Guardsmen walked into The Council Chambers. One walked to the side of the dais near the switch that reeled Anton’s chains and the other stepped onto the dais behind Anton.

Sportacus stared down at Anton on the dais. Hair disheveled and skin pale compared to the black ink scratched on his arms and neck. Nothing compared to how he looked when he showed up unannounced in Lazy Town six months ago. Not a hair out of place, a perfectly polished ticking watch, and a finely tailored suit. Sportacus pulled the empty emblem from his vest and held it in his hands. The metal felt cool against his skin.

The first Guardsmen held his foot on the switch while the second Guardsmen placed a firm hand on Anton’s neck. The second nodded and the first tapped the switch with his foot to slacken the chains. Anton was pushed to his knees. No, not like this.

Sportacus stood. “Pabbi,” he tossed the emblem in the air and caught it. All eyes were on him. “Tell mamma and móðir that I‘m sorry.”

The wisp of mist shivered, “Oh no,” said Glanni.

Robbie fluttered close to Glanni’s shoulder, his position awkward with Tatiana in his arms, “What? What is it?”

Emblem grasped in his hands Sportacus approached the dome, raised his hands above his head, and slammed the emblem into the glass.

Council members shrieked and some ducked for cover. Madam One Hundred covered the scepter with her body. Members of the audience were similarly startled but the group of young trainees was quick to attention while Sportacus hopped through the gaping hole in the dome.

Glass shards fell like rain on Anton’s head to slice his clothes and scratch his skin but did no real damage. The same could not be said about the Guardsmen behind him, a sizeable piece of glass pieced his armor and plunged itself into his shoulder. All the training in the world could not save anyone in panic.

Blood sprayed over Anton’s beige uniform when the Guardsmen grasped at the shard. He crumpled to the dais, blood pouring out from beneath his polished regal armor just as Sportacus landed on the dais.

The second Guardsmen to the left of Anton by the switch on the dais rushed Sportacus; however, the enthusiastic nature of youth stopped him short. A member of the group of young trainees followed Sportacus’s lead and fell on the Guardsmen’s neck.

Shock tempered the Council’s tongues while Sportacus stomped on the switch and fumbled with the emblem in hand, unwilling to drop it, it traded hands. Blood seeped around, and in, the emblem while he pulled the pin from Anton’s shackles.

Blood dripped down Anton’s temple and he stared at Sportacus fumbling with the switch while the Council Members shouted for Guardsmen, soldiers, or anyone to intervene.

The one who did try to intervene sat beside the crumpled body of the Guardsmen, unable to stand, his companions jumped through the dome and managed to land clear of anybody. They pulled the first trainee to his feet just as Sportacus freed Anton.

Metal chains clattered to the ground and Anton rubbed his wrists while Sportacus tossed the emblem in the air. Three drops of blood fell to the white dais to mix with the blood of the fallen guardsmen. “Doors, Anton.” Sportacus launched the emblem at the trainees when they finally gathered their wits about them.

The emblem hit the trainee in the center and all six fell like dominoes.

“Now,” shouted Sportacus. Anton didn’t need any prompting. They ran for the tall glided doors while the klaxons blared. A minute too late.

The gilded doors slid open and a pair of Guardsmen entered the Chamber, “What are you doing?” Anton shouted as they dodged around the melee armed guards.

“I shouldn’t be able to do that same trick twice to two different members of The Order,” said Sportacus. “Pathetic,” he sneered. Granted, the first time he threw something and felled someone from The Order it was a full fledged Hero and not a young adult trainee. He grabbed the sword holding wrist of the nearest Guardsmen and tried to wrestle the weapon away.

Boot leather slamming on the ground didn’t alert them as much as the sound of cackling electricity. Anton reacted faster than Sportacus and pulled his brother off the Guardsmen just as Íþróttaálfurinn pulled the trigger of the stun gun. Twin barbs slammed into the chest of The Guardsmen and he crumpled to the ground. He tossed the gun aside and stood, stunned, as if by his own actions.

Sportacus slammed his shoulder into the Guardsmen that assaulted Anton. “Move.”

Anton pulled a large dagger out of its sheath on the Guardsmen’s hip. Sportacus pulled the stun gun from the guard on the ground.

They didn’t have a plan. Not a real one. “Airship,” shouted Anton while they ran through the dimly lit hallway towards the main concourse. If they made it the out reaches of Home Base and the docked airships then they would think of a better plan other than escape.

Behind them, the trainees got to their feet and ran after the fleeing convict. Above them on the raised bench Ninety-Two placed a boot on the polished wood and flared her wings. Guardsmen filed into the Chambers to push past Íþróttaálfurinn and she called them to her. She buzzed through the chamber and ran through the hallway behind the trainees with the Guardsmen at her tail. Among them was Íþróttaálfurinn as the Guardsmen and all others were too distracted to obtain him for his little stunt. Too stunned to move for a moment, the wisp of pink mist with the odd tail followed the Íþróttssons with careful dodges around boots to try and catch up with its target.

Tatiana slapped her cheeks to try get focused and she wrapped the other arm tighter around Robbie’s neck to keep from falling. Robbie, the reason Tatiana worried about falling into a bottomless abyss, shouldered closer to Glanni, their wings brushed up against each other and this would normally threaten their balance in flight but neither seemed to care. “What’s going on, what’s happening?”

“You remember when I said that this would dangerous and very, very, stupid?” Glanni replied while he held his arms out and glowing pink disks floated in front of his palms. “Well,” he said not waiting for Robbie’s response, “Your boyfriend did something reckless, stupid, and is now risking everyone’s lives.”

Tatiana’s forward thinking saved her as Robbie’s grip slipped, “Watch it, butterfly boy.”

“Why?” Robbie didn’t pay attention to Tatiana’s scream inches away from his ear.

Drips of blood followed them like a glowing trail on the white tile. “Why are you,” huffed Anton, “Doing this, Sport?”

Sportacus and Anton pulled open the tall gilded doors, “You don’t want to die on your knees, Anton.” The Guardsmen outside the doors met them and Anton tossed the dagger to Sportacus. He feigned to his left and jabbed the dagger in the left side of the Guardsmen’s neck. He pulled it left to right and blood spurted to cover his sky blue and white shirt with red.

A blue boot sent the Guardsmen backwards into his companion and took him off balance. They pushed themselves forward and ran for it. Trainees and heroes gathered around the main concourse, confused and unsure of what to do, until they saw the blood. Some rushed the doors to block their escape. Sportacus pulled the sidearm out of the Guradsmen holster and non-fatally shot a charging half-troll so she fell onto a group of Peacekeepers. They groaned while Anton punched a human guard and pulled a baton from his belt. “You wanted to be infamous, Anton,” shouted Sportacus to be heard over the klaxons. “Let’s be infamous,” he said with a laugh.

They ran. The wisp crawled up the sides of the wall. A drip of blood rolled down Glanni’s lip, “Don’t we all,” murmured Glanni.

Tatiana wrapped both arms around Robbie’s neck just when his grip failed and she nearly fell out of his arms. “I—” he couldn’t find the words “—Sportacus?”

A sports elf grabbed at Sportacus’s vest but he slipped out of it easily. The hesitation stopped him and gave a peacekeeper an opening to try to grab a pressure point near his neck. Sportacus ducked and the Peacekeeper, instead, grabbed his cap and goggles. Sportacus pulled away leaving behind parts of his uniform and a tuft of his hair in the Peacekeeper’s fist.

For his part Íþróttaálfurinn remained quiet, unsure what just happened, or what to say when he caught up with his sons. Goddess help him, The twin’s mother, Sigrún, would be proud that the twins stood tall together; meanwhile her partner, Hildr, would say that Íþróttaálfurinn taught them to be this impulsive. They would agree that they would’ve been better off never following their father’s footsteps to becoming Heroes. He hoped he lived to tell them they were right.

Glanni twisted his right wrist and moved his left hand and the glowing dial above its partner. “If we,” he gathered his thoughts while the wisp flooded a portion of the ceiling, “Work quickly.” A smaller wisp of neon pink remained separate from Glanni’s raspberry pink cloud. “We might be able to grab them and leave without incident.” He wiped his nose on his hand and Robbie looked at him through the corner of his eye. “Time to ride and die for your man.”

Tatiana snorted.

The trainees, Ninety-Two, and the Guardsmen rounded the corner.

“Darlings,” cooed Glanni’s voice from the corners of the walls. “Having all the fun without me? Shame. You know I love being invited to parties, Anton.” The mist vibrated and moved along the ceiling to follow Íþróttssons. “Quickly, follow my lead. Down here.” Pink moved through the corridor and crawled over the corner into the hallway.

Brown leather boots skidded on white tile as Íþróttaálfurinn elbowed his way through the guards and trainees as he nearly ran past where the hallway twins ran down. “What are you doing?” He shouted over the klaxons.

“Fuck if I know,” said Sportacus.

“I’m staying alive, thanks,” said Anton, he slid the baton along the slick tile floor and managed to trip up one of those brave, stupid, trainees. Other black suited trainees fell on their classmate and even managed to trip up some green suited Peace Keepers and the stray Sports Elf. “Good Goddess, where are they getting these pathetic excuses for Heroes?”

No one answered him. They ran while above their heads the mist crawled across the ceiling to eclipse the white of the tiles. The hallway forked ahead of them and Íþróttaálfurinn  and his sons skidded to a halt at the branching of the paths. A sea of green uniformed Peace Keepers, black uniformed trainees, and a few blue uniformed Sports Elves blocked both hallways.

Breathing hard, Íþróttaálfurinn grabbed the back of the beige shirt of Anton’s prison outfit and Sportacus’s arm and pulled them back the way they came. However, a line of sliver clad elves, The Council’s personal guard, blocked their path and brandished weapons. Ninety-Two hovered a foot off the ground in front of the Guardsmen. Íþróttaálfurinn prayed to Goddess for forgiveness for Anton, mercy for Sportacus, and finally for peace to come to Sigrún and Hildr in the wake of their eventual deaths. Íþróttaálfurinn stood in front of his sons and shielded them from The Council guards.

Ninety-Two spoke loud enough to be heard over the klaxons. “We offered you mercy, Sportacus, and this is how your repay our generosity?” Sportacus shrugged so she shook her head. “Íþróttaálfurinn, you were offered a chance at redemption before and you refused. You told us that you did not want redemption. Only to do what’s right. Yet,” she looked between the twins, “You do this. Why?”

A gunshot rang out. Ninety-Tow screamed in pain and fell to the ground with a heavy thud. One translucent incest wing buzzed in a frantic speed. The silver clad guards circled around her to protect her from the threat. The sea of green, black, and blue stepped back from Íþróttaálfurinn and his sons. No one saw them move. All eyes were on Sportacus but the handgun stayed at his side.

What they didn’t notice the cloud of mist on the high ceiling of the corridor. “What a bullshit question, honey,” said Glanni descending from the portal in the mist. “Sometimes you do dumb shit for people you love.” Beside him hovered Robbie, Tatiana in his arms, she shot again. This time her shot went high but Guardsmen and Heroes all ducked.

The twins’ mouths hung open, unsure of what to make of their partners hovering six feet above their heads. Sportacus and Robbie had been a couple for a short time and were not sexual active. Hell, Sportacus never saw Robbie naked and now, he figured, he understood why. He also became acutely aware that he was covered in another person’s blood. He swallowed hard.

Anton, held a tattooed hand over his mouth, the black ink contrasted with his pale face. The gravity of the situation finally kicked him in the chest: his father stood to his left, his brother to his right, and above hovered the only woman he only loved. They could all die at any second.

As for Íþróttaálfurinn, well, seeing Glanni appear suddenly out of the ether is a trick that got old years ago. He could call Glanni dramatic on his best days and lazy on his worst.

Mist swirled and the portal above their heads condensed into nothing. Their only means of escape shriveled up and disappeared. Traces of pink mist slithered along the edges of the walls. Glanni and Robbie looked up. Speckles of grey colored Glanni’s temples and the color drained out of Robbie’s face.

“Glanni?” Murmured Robbie hoping that he was heard over the klaxons, “What happened?”

Behind The Council Guards a vicious, angry voice screamed, “You’ll die for this, Glæpur.”

“Focus waivered,” said Glanni.

“We should go,” said Robbie. His voice barely heard over the klaxons.

“Agreed.” Glanni nodded and held a palm towards the left branch, none of the Heroes or Heroes-to-be moved when they saw the neon pink bead of light swirl in his palm. It was their loss. “Íþróttaálfurinn,” said Glanni as he pulled his arm back and the bead of light grew bigger and brighter in his palm, “My love.”

Half of The Council Guard broke away from the others to advance on Íþróttaálfurinn and the twins. Some of the guards brandished swords while the others trained sleek side arms on Glanni and Robbie.

 The bead of light grew into the size of a softball and glittered like a star in Glanni’s palm. “Prepare to run.” He pushed the ball of energy forward and watched it shoot towards the group of Heroes and trainees.

BOOM

The ball of energy exploded in a bright flare of pink glitter and sent Heroes and trainees to the ground. “Go,” shouted Glanni, “Now.”

They ran. Íþróttaálfurinn pushed his sons forward and followed behind. They jumped over the sprawling bodies on the floor. Shots were fired behind them and whizzed just past Anton’s ear. Overhead Glanni kept the pursuers at bay with magic while Tatiana used bullets. She felled two trainees and a Guardsmen while they focused on Glanni’s magic. Sportacus’s shots were more sporadic and few hit their marks.

Reconstituted, the neon pink wisp followed along the wall after Glanni. Each moment it became thicker and longer like a snake it slithered along.

Íþróttaálfurinn led the motley crew with shouted directions while Glanni met his speed overhead. Robbie trailed behind the rest. Sweat trickled down his temples and Tatiana weighted heavily in his arms.

Klaxons blared. Ninety-Two shouted behind them. Footsteps, including their own, pounded on the tiled floor. Glanni direction earlier led them away from the docks closer to the center of Home Base. Íþróttaálfurinn  tried to lead them back but they couldn’t go on forever. “We need an out, Glanni,” shouted Íþróttaálfurinn.

Bullets whizzed past them, some closer than others, as one bullet nicked Anton’s already scarred ear.

Fresh blood dripped from his nose and Glanni held his palms together. Just one moment to focus, that’s all he needed, on the mist swirling around his body. He flew closer to the ground and he started to run beside Íþróttaálfurinn and folded his wings close to his body. He wouldn’t be able to keep up with Íþróttaálfurinn’s pace for long but long enough. Raspberry pink mist exploded from the soles of his boots. Above him, the neon pink snake slid to the ground to slither alongside Glanni.

Íþróttaálfurinn led them best as he could but a division of The Council Guard predicted his movements and matched their speed. They, and the Heroes, were closing on them fast. “Glanni?” He shouted over his shoulder to Glanni behind him. “Hope you’re working on a plan.”

Robbie screamed.

The mist evaporated around Glanni as he slid to a stop along the white tile floor to look back at Robbie. Blood dribbled to the ground as Robbie struggled to stay aloft with Tatiana in his arms. The three elves skidded past Glanni, and doubled back. However, the twins weren’t fast enough. Robbie lost his balance and dropped Tatiana first before falling heavily onto the spotless white of the corridor. Anton helped Tatiana to her feet and Sportacus did the same with Robbie.

The wisp of neon pink pooled underneath Glanni’s feet and spread across the floor.

“Hello, Antosha,” said Tatiana as she discharged the spent magazine and replaced it with a fresh one. “Did you miss me?”

Tears welled up in Anton’s eye, “You remember me?”

“I could never forget you, Anton,” she said with a wink.

Tear streaks stained Robbie’s cheeks as Sportacus assessed his injured arm while he pulled Robbie up by his good arm. “It’s a flesh wound, Robbie,” said Sportacus pulled him along to join the others. “You’ll be okay, I promise.” Robbie pulled his arm out of Sportacus’s grasp with a glare.

They stood still for too long, Íþróttaálfurinn shouted over the commotion surrounding them, “Glanni?”

Glanni stood still, the hair on his temples grey and his breath labored, his eyes focused on Robbie’s bloody sleeve and the blood on the ground. Anton was covered in scratches and his beige uniform was stained red. Also stained red was Sportacus’s uniform and blood dripped from his hand. So much blood, thought Glanni unaware of the blood dripping down his nose and onto his partially exposed chest.

“Glanni!” shouted Íþróttaálfurinn. The Council Guard and Heroes were closing in, a bullet grazed Sportacus’s cheek.

Again, Glanni held his palms together and tried to focus, a wisp of raspberry pink mist swirled along with the neon pink at his feet. Robbie grasped his hands around Glanni’s and, brow furrowed, he held his forehead to his hands. Glanni mirrored his posture. Purple, raspberry, and neon pink mixed together and swirled around them.

A bullet found its mark in Glanni’s shoulder and threw him backwards. Íþróttaálfurinn and Sportacus managed to keep the two fairies upright. The mist fell to Glanni and Robbie’s feet and spread across the floor. In front of them the group of trainees from the Council Chamber audience rounded the corner somehow in front of the Guardsmen. They advanced slowly clearly remembering their training. Six in total, one woman and five men, they approached determined to see justice done. If they succeeded they would all but guaranteed crystals and be ranked Ten. If they lived.

Glanni wrapped his arms, as much as it hurt, around Robbie’s neck. “It wasn’t suppose to end like this,” he said into Robbie’s ear. Fúna called Glanni reckless on more than one occasion and she was right: he killed his only nephew and her son. He killed the elf he loved and his sons. Wide storm grey eyes drifted over to Íþróttaálfurinn, “I’m sorry.” Glanni’s voice was lost among the blare of klaxons, pounding foots steps, and gunshot blasts.

It happened quickly.

Bullets perforated Sportacus’s white and blue shirt to add a splash of bright red among the dried blood. He reached out for Robbie as he crumpled to the ground and Robbie managed to grab his hand. However, Sportacus’s weight pulled Robbie forward to the ground. Sportacus laid flat on his back, blood pooled beneath him. He tried to speak but all that could be heard by Robbie were harsh shallow breaths.

Robbie grabbed a fistful of Sportacus’s shirt and shook him but those beautiful blue eyes lost had already lost their shine. His wings, possibly as a reflex, fluttered wide only to be pierced by another wave of bullets. He screamed again and arched his back. A bullet pierced his heart and he fell forward. His long fingers tangled in blond curls.

Tatiana shot back, never afraid to fight, while she stood in front of Anton to protect him but to no avail as a bullet lanced his jugular. He clamped his hands over the gushing wound but blood spurted from between his fingers as he fell to his knees. Distracted Tatiana spun, strawberry blond hair flaring out, and a bullet slammed into the back of her head. She, too, fell and bled out on her partner.

A Council Guardsmen approached Íþróttaálfurinn and Glanni.

“W-what,” Íþróttaálfurinn swallowed hard, “What are you doing?” He held up his hands in gesture of surrender. A Guardsmen unsheathed a long thin curved blade and spun it with a twist of the wrist. “Wait, please,” Íþróttaálfurinn was breathless. “Please. Wait.”

The Guardsmen did not. He slashed the blade across Íþróttaálfurinn throat and brought the blade down on Glanni’s shoulder. Another slash brought the blade across Glanni’s throat, above the choker, to match Íþróttaálfurinn. A second passed as they stood in shock while the Guardsmen whipped the blade back to fling the blood from its polished surface.

Red seeped through Íþróttaálfurinn’s bandana and blood completely covered Glanni’s partially exposed chest. Íþróttaálfurinn fell forward onto his knees while fell backwards onto his side. The Guardsmen looked down at Íþróttaálfurinn who held his throat and placed a well born leather boot into his shoulder and pushed him to the ground. Side by side, Glanni and Íþróttaálfurinn faced each other as they died.

The guns were silent. The klaxons ceased. The footsteps of Heroes, Guardsmen, and trainees became less urgent. Weapons were sheathed and holstered. Finally, it was quiet.

***

All the children of Lazy Town sat on the couch in Pixel’s room while he played clips of Sportcus on the TV. Ziggy played with his bear and made sound with his mouth, “He went like this,” he whoosed the bear above his head, “And then like that,” another whoosh.

“Did Íþrótt…ah…” Stephanie trailed off trying to remember the exact name. “Did his dad say when they were coming back?”

Trixie stared out the window, “Where’s Robbie?”

“No, they just left, remember? And Robbie said that he was going to our town hero back,” said Pixel. “So you remember him?”

“And why,” said Stingy, “Wouldn’t we?”

Trixie watched as Klara jogged past the window before she skidded to a stop and flipped open her bracer. A hologram message projected a few inches above her wrist and she read it before slapping the bracer shut. “Does she know anything? She did come with that creep and Sportacus-dad.”

“Should we go ask?” Pixel stood up from his desk, right at the same moment that his father called for dinner. “Ah, well…maybe after dinner.”

Similar shouts rang out over the quiet air of Lazy Town and the other kids seemed to agree. “Robbie and Sportacus can protect each other,” said Ziggy while he wrapped Teddicus up in cape. “They’ll be safe, I think.”

***

A leather boot pushed Glanni onto his back, “Baby brother,” cooed Fúna. “You do anything like this again and I,” she pushed the toe of her boot into the bullet wound in his shoulder. “I will destroy you, understand?”

Glanni screamed out in pain, one hand grasped at the grass beneath him, and tears leaked out his eyes.

“Good,” said Fúna. “By the way,” she looped a finger through the O-ring of Glanni’s choker, “You’re grounded.” She pulled him up to his feet by the ring.

The dusk light filtered over the green grassed hills while Home Base was just a speck on the horizon. Neon pink mist swirled around a portal to Home Base and the others sat in the grass around it watching what happened since they fell through the pool of mist on the floor. “That seems unrealistic,” said Tatiana.

Through the portal they saw the glamour on the trainees flicker from their original form and back again. Each time it did Glanni and Robbie’s false wings would twitch.

“What,” said Anton with a laugh, “You wouldn’t die trying to protect me?”

“I wouldn’t die,” Tatiana laughed. “I would mow down everyone in my path before death took me, you know that.” Anton laughed with her and buried his face in her shoulder. His laughs trailed off into soft sobs. Tatiana combed her fingers through his hair and picked out bits of glass, “You’re a mess, Antosha, really.” Her voice was soft.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt,” murmured Anton.

“Ah, see? Proof even death fears me for I am, miraculously, unscathed.” She rubbed the edge of his ear below where the bullet nicked it. “I wish I could say the same about you, Anton, because I’m not sure you can afford to lose much more of your ears.”

Beside them, in the grass, Robbie and Sportacus sat in the grass. Robbie plucked grass blades and Sportacus watched the portal. “Thank you, Robbie, for coming to save me and my family.”

Robbie grunted but did not meet Sportacus’s eyes. His arm still bled and turned the sleeve of his turtleneck black. “I promised Pixel that I would bring you back to Lazy Town. He was worried about you. But,” he looked up at Sportacus, splattered with blood, “I’m not sure if I feel comfortable bringing you back to them after what I’ve seen you do.”

A coldness settled in Sportacus’s stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip me. I'm so tired of this fic but I'm going to finish it.
> 
> If you're confused about Fúna, I rewrote the first two chapters and introduced her there, sorry about that.
> 
> Anyway...  
> Thanks for reading  
> ♥

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a big fan of posting works in progress but I feel like it would keep me honest and strive to finish it.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


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